


The Agent and the Art Thief: Faith, Trust, Pixie Dust

by The_Marvelous_JollyRoger



Series: The Agent and the Art Thief [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marvelous_JollyRoger/pseuds/The_Marvelous_JollyRoger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is in need of an art thief. She enlists the help of Killian Jones, aka the Captain, in order to take on her latest case--involving kidnapped children, a ruthless drug cartel, and multimillionaire entertainment mogul Peter Pan. Emma has to learn who she can trust, and test how far she's willing to go for her job, herself, and the alluring art thief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Special Agent Emma Swan had never been a fan of hospitals, though she spent a fair amount of time in them. Little more than a week ago she visited a concussion-addled Will Scarlet for information on the thugs that put him there. Four months ago she’d spent long hours with Mary Margaret, David, and baby Neal. A few days ago she’d been there for herself, having the doctor reset her dislocated shoulder after an arrest got a little out of hand.

But, starting around six months ago, she visited once a week—every Sunday morning—and sat with a man she’d never really met. At first she told herself it was to check on him, make sure he was safe, keep her promise. But after a while it became routine. Sometimes she’d bring a book, her morning coffee, the newspaper; it didn’t really matter, she’d just sit in the room in a chair by the corner and stay for an hour.

But that Sunday morning, when she whisked into the room, she wasn’t the only visitor there to see Liam Jones. A portly man stood at the window, overlooking the crowded city below. He was still wearing that red cap. He jumped a little when she entered the sterile room. Emma herself was a little surprised; she wasn’t sure he would come.

“Smee,” she said.

“Swan,” he replied, turning from the window. He held a letter in his hands, tapping the paper absently.

Emma glanced at the man in the bed, asleep for the past several years. Sometimes she couldn’t see the family resemblance to his brother. Liam had curly brown hair, a rounder, more amicable face.

“I got your message,” Smee said, shifting on his feet. “What did you want to speak to me about?”

Emma almost rolled her eyes. “Stop squirming,” she said. “I’m not here to arrest you.”

“Forgive me, but the letters F-B-and-I don’t exactly spell out _trustworthy_ ,” he retorted.

“If I wanted to take you down, Smee, I would’ve had plenty of time already. You’ve been shadowing Liam since he was transferred here.”

Smee glanced at the man and sighed. “All right, then. What _do_ you want?”

“Your boss,” Emma said. Smee gave a start, his piggish eyes opening wide. “Where is he?”

Smee barked out a raspy laugh. “The feds have really lost their subtle touch, haven’t they? Just point blank now, I see.”

Emma bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a frustrated insult. “I need you to put me in contact with him. Send him a message, at least.”

Smee narrowed his eyes, peering at her with almost comical suspicion. “What kind of message?”

Emma sighed, squaring her shoulders. “Just tell him Emma Swan’s in need of one hell of an art thief.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the "chapters" get longer eventually

“What do you mean he’s _unavailable_?” David asked.

Emma shrugged, bracing herself against his desk. “That’s what Smee said. ‘The Captain is out plundering, should be free in a month or two’,” she half-growled.

David fell back in his office chair, staring at the ceiling. Emma just glanced at the nameplate resting on the desk. _Supervisor David Nolan_. Her former partner rubbed his eyes. Between the promotion and the new baby, he barely ever got any sleep.

“This is more important,” he said, running his hands through his hair.

“I’m not sure Smee even got the message to Killian directly,” Emma added, standing up and crossing her arms. “If he had, I’m sure the response would’ve been more…” David looked at her, lifting a brow. “Detailed.”

“ _Detailed_ , right,” he muttered. “Well…if we can’t have the Captain, we’ll just have to settle for a more local thief. Think Scarlet would be up for it? Or Robin?”

Emma shook her head, pacing in front of his desk while she thought. “Scarlet’s way too flighty for a case this big. And Robin’s too busy with running the Merry Men.”

David waited a few seconds, looking down before speaking. “Well…there’s always Cassidy…”

“ _No_ ,” Emma snapped. “We can’t trust him.”

“Em, we don’t have a lot of options here,” David said, spreading his hands.

“Maybe not, but I’m not willing to pick the wrong guy for the job and ruin everything we’ve set up so far,” she replied.

“Well…I’ll reach out to some other branches, see if there’s anybody willing to lend us their CI.” David reached for his phone.

“What if I explained the situation to Killian…”

David sighed. “Emma, we can’t risk a message being intercepted,” he started.

“…in person?”

Her supervisor sat back and blinked. “How would you even _find_ him? We haven’t been able to catch heads or tails of him, even with Interpol resources.”

“I bet I could convince Smee to tell me where he is. You said it yourself, David, we don’t have a lot of options. So let me go after the one guy we _know_ can pull this off. You know we need his reputation just as much as we need his skills.”

David held her stare for a while, clearly unhappy with the thought of involving the Captain with anything. In the end, he just threw his hands up halfheartedly and sat back in his chair. “Fine. But I want _constant_ updates. The second you find him, bring him back here for debriefing.”

Emma felt a tiny thrill race through her. She swallowed back a smile before it grew too big on her lips. “I’ll track down Smee.” She turned and whisked towards the door.

“Emma,” David called. She paused. “You’re _sure_ you want to do this? After everything that’s happened?”

She steeled herself and nodded. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Sure,” he said, eyeing her. “But if he pulls another stunt with you, I’m personally kicking his ass.”

Emma couldn’t help a small laugh. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” she teased. With that, Emma hurried out of the FBI office building and back into the busy streets of New York. She hailed a taxi and rode straight for the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

Killian Jones stood in front of a large painting, admiring the intricacies of the blending blue shades that made up the churning ocean waves. The detail was exquisite, capturing the white foam and sunset light off the water. A red-headed mermaid was sprawled out along a rock, staring out towards the horizon and a ship sailing out of sight. He let his eyes roam over every inch of the decorated canvas, absorbing the details he’d seen a thousand times over.

“You know, I still don’t get the whole _pirate_ thing you’re going for.”

Killian whirled around, utterly stunned to see the blonde woman standing there. “ _Emma_?”

And there she was, his sweet Agent Swan, standing in the middle of the gallery. She looked ever the same—curled hair that fell over her shoulders like gold waterfalls, eyes the color of emerald sea-glass, a siren smirk that could bring any sailor to his knees.

He might as well have fallen under some sort of spell for all the words she pulled from his lips. Killian scrambled for something to say, his surprise was so great.

She was enjoying his shock more than she probably should have. But after all those times of _him_ rendering _her_ speechless, it felt too good to see him fumbling, even if it only lasted a couple of seconds.

That all too familiar sultry smirk tilted up on his lips a moment later, his eyes glittering. “I’ll be damned. Special Agent Emma Swan, seeking me out? It must be a dream.” He reached forward and grabbed her hand, bringing it to her lips. She rolled her eyes, but the slight flush in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Not a dream,” she replied, taking her hand back. “A case.”

He quirked a brow and straightened. “Ah. Business, not pleasure, is it?” She might have imagined the slight look of disappointment on his face. But Emma shook herself and focused.

“We’re onto something big, real big. But we need an art thief, one with a reputation.” His grin grew back as he took half a step closer to the FBI agent.

“And was I the dashing criminal that came to mind? I must say, I’m flattered.”

Emma did all that she could to keep eye contact and not let her gaze fall down towards his stupid smug lips. “We need someone to-”

“I accept.”

Emma blinked, an explanation dying on her tongue. She mentally shook herself. So much for maintaining that control… “You haven’t even heard what it is yet,” she said.

Killian shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have to. After our last adventure, my darling Swan, you not only held up your end of the bargain, but assured my brother was in safekeeping. For that I am indebted to you. I’ll do whatever it is you need of me to solve this case.” Emma was stunned. No ulterior motives? No conditions? Maybe this was gonna be easier than she thought. David would be happy, at least. “Provided you allow me to take you out on a date.”

And there it was. Emma almost deflated as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “ _Really_? Asking for a kiss last time was bad enough, a _date_?”

He quirked a brow. “Do you truly think it’d be so horrible? I seem to recall us having a bit of _fun_ last time ‘round.”

Emma balked. “What happened in the safehouse was-”

“Safehouse? I was referring to De Vil’s party, love, but if you’d rather skip dinner and go straight to dessert…”

Unbelievable. He was just as irritating as ever. Using Will Scarlet was sounding like a better option every second. “Just one night out. Say, _tonight_ , perhaps? Your coworkers wouldn’t even have to be privy to our deal.”

Was he serious? “I’m working an incredibly important case here, Killian. A time-sensitive one. And the guy we’re after is just as bad as Robert Gold, if not worse.”

“With you at the helm, my darling Agent Swan, your criminal is as good as caught. So unless you were planning on flying all the way back to the States tonight, you’re free to spend an evening with me.”

She flushed with heat, her brows drawn into a sharp frown. But before she could snap at him, he turned back towards the wall-mounted painting. His head tilted to the side a little. “Do you like it?” he asked.

All the steam whistled out of her. “What?”

Killian chuckled and nodded towards the picture. “The painting. Do you like it?”

In her line of work, Emma had developed an appreciation for the arts. Spending half of her time in galleries, even if they were crime scenes, she’d seen all sorts of masterpieces. “It’s beautiful…are you going to steal it?”

A laugh bubbled out of him that was so genuine it made Emma forget herself and smile a little. “Certainly not,” he said. “The curator here is an old friend of mine.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a _thief_ owning a museum before,” she muttered.

“That’s because Eric isn’t a thief. He’s former Navy, like myself. He and I were in the same crew, captained by my brother,” he said.

Emma tore her eyes away from the painting and up towards the dark haired con artist. She searched his expression, wondering why he’d tell her such personal details out of the blue. He wasn’t exactly an open book…

“Does Eric know you’re the Captain?” she asked, looking at the ocean scene again.

“I think he has his suspicions, but I’ve never told him. It’s a dangerous thing to be associated with a man like the Captain. But…sometimes I can put that reputation to good use. Any thief worth his skill knows this gallery is protected. Eric needn’t worry about the safety of his art collections.”

Emma’s expression softened. She almost had the urge to link her arm with his as she admired the painting. “What’s it called?” she asked.

“ _Out of the Sea_ ,” he answered.

“And who painted it?”

“I did.”

Her eyes opened wide, jaw dropping open in surprise. “ _You_ painted that?”

He laughed again, hands still in his pocket, maddeningly casual. “So surprised? Even after I made you that lovely Botticelli homage?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Emma’s eyes scoured the painting again. Every detail looked different now that she knew the man who created it.

“It was a wedding present for Eric. Though his wife Ariel adored it so much she insisted it become the first painting to hang in the gallery. Spirited woman.” He shook his head, eyes lost in fond memory.

Emma looked him up and down, trying to get a read on the thief. She’d been chasing him for so long and still hardly knew a thing about him. Sure, she knew the criminal, but apparently not the man. She’d never imagined him having a life outside of his heists, having old friends or hobbies or a non-criminal past.

He seemed to catch onto her surprise. “Meet me in front of the gallery at 8 o’clock tonight,” he said. Before she could piece herself together enough to come up with a response, he strode out of the spacious room and towards the exit.

“Hey, wait! I never agreed to a date,” she called after him.

He paused, flashing a rakish grin over his shoulder. “Wear something nice.”

“I didn’t _bring_ anything nice,” she half-snapped. “I was just coming to find you.”

“Well, you certainly found me,” he replied. “So I’ll find _you_ something lovely to wear.”


	4. Chapter 4

Emma Swan had never been to London before, but she wasn’t there to see the sights or wander the streets. She was _supposed_ to be there acquiring a criminal asset for a case, and instead here she was about to go on a date with the guy.

The air was nippy, but all the lights lining the roads, strung up in shop windows, and from the moon made the chill easy to ignore. The gallery behind her was dark. She rocked on her heels, wearing the same outfit as before. God, if David found out about this…

“Try not to look so exasperated, love. Your date might worry you’re not terribly interested in him.”

Emma sighed, her breath curling into the fall air. Killian practically materialized out of the darkness, wearing a suit seemingly made of the shadows that surrounded him. He toted a dress-bag over his shoulder.

“Right, hate to give _that_ impression,” she muttered. He chuckled and walked up to the edge of the steps, setting his weight to one said and looking up at her with glittering eyes. He looked more like a schoolboy picking up his date for Prom than an internationally hunted art thief. He extended the dress bag. She just stared at it for a moment. “I’m almost afraid to find out what’s in there.”

“I’ll spare you the sudden fright, then. It’s a dress.”

Emma barely held in an eye roll. “I figured out that much. But since _you_ picked it out-”

“Since _I_ picked it out, you can be assured it’s a gown of taste and elegance,” he said. “A dress that reflects the lovely woman soon to be wearing it.”

She held his gaze for a second, biting the inside of her cheek in thought. Was she _actually_ going through with this? With a sigh, Emma took the dress bag. What was one stupid night if it meant ultimately catching her man? She knew what she’d signed up for the moment she suggested hiring him on as a temporary CI.

Killian produced a spare key to the Sailing Flautist gallery and led her inside. She got changed in the ladies room, primping and preparing for a night out in London as best she could. Emma almost left the bathroom without even a glance in the mirror. But a glance was all it took.

The black dress was just as Killian said it’d be: tasteful and elegant. It was a simple, curve-hugging, off-the-shoulder-strapped evening gown that ended at her knees. Emma glanced at herself in the mirror for a moment, sighing as she leaned forward and fluffed out her hair and pinched her cheeks. She caught herself. Was she _primping_? For him? It was one stupid night out…

She might have imagined his brief moment of surprise when she walked back out of the gallery. He was standing there, leaning against the railing of the steps, eyes cast out over the Thames, until he saw her out of the corner of his eye. His mouth soon quirked up into that familiar, sultry grin. As she descended, he took her hand and brought it up to his lips.

“Enchanting as ever, Agent Swan,” he said.

“Let’s just keep all the…theatrics to a minimum, ok?” she said.

“Oh I make no such promises,” he replied, straightening up. With that, he offered her his elbow. With a roll of her eyes, Emma linked her arm in his and together they walked down the London streets.

It was a relatively short walk, one he kept entertaining by telling her embellished stories of his _alleged_ heists. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth and stop a laugh more than once. Killian stopped outside a restaurant called Tony’s and ushered her inside. The chill of the night air was chased off by warmth from the kitchen and candles around the interior. It was a cozy place, filled with the scents of Italian foods and pulsing with conversation and light accordion music. While Emma glanced around, Killian walked up and mentioned their reservations.

“Right this way, Mr. Jones.”

Emma tried not to flinch when Killian’s hands rested for a moment on her bare shoulders as he led her towards their table. She slid into the booth across from him and occupied herself by staring into the candle flame, and then the menu.

“May I start you off with anything to drink? Perhaps our specialty wine?”

“A bottle of your finest Borolo, please,” Killian said. “It’s a special occasion.”

The waiter lit up, smiling at them both. “Ah, I see.” He scurried off and brought them their wine only minutes later. Emma swirled the glass and stared at her reddish-purplish reflection.

“I’ve never known you to be a fidgety woman, Swan,” Killian said out of the blue.

“Well it’s more than a little unorthodox for an FBI agent to go out with a wanted criminal,” she whispered harshly.

He quirked a brow. “Worried about being caught, are you? What _would_ Agent Nolan say if he discovered my little condition to our deal, hmm?” Emma blanched, causing him to laugh. “I have no intention of telling him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he added.

“Look, why don’t I just bring you up to speed on the case?” she said, desperate to change the topic.

“Oh no no,” Killian countered, pouring more wine into her glass. “I never mix business and pleasure. Well, not usually. _You_ seem to be an exception to that rule, my dear. Besides, we’ll have more than enough time to converse tomorrow on the flight back to New York.”

Emma swallowed a sigh of frustration and drummed her fingers on the stem of her glass before taking a hearty sip. Jesus, if Mary Margaret was here she’d be slapping a hand to her forehead in secondhand embarrassment. But what could Emma talk about? What could she say to make this stupid date less awkward? She’d been walking a dangerous line with Killian, he named it himself: business and pleasure. She had to focus on the former and ignore how striking the thief looked in a suit.

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to of late, Swan?” He leaned forward, as if genuinely interested. Emma was just glad it was a flirt-less question.

“Well, we recently took down an insider-trading ring led by someone called the Queen of Hearts. Turned out to be Governor Cora Mills. That caused a media feeding frenzy. And then there was a reporter who was covering up all these political scandals and –”

Killian cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I meant what you’ve been up to _outside_ of work, Swan.”

Emma blinked. “What, like my personal life?”

“Exactly. Anybody can read the papers. And when the words _FBI Agent Emma Swan_ are in the headline, you can be sure I pay rapt attention.” He smiled as he sipped his wine.

The last thing she wanted to discuss was her private life. Not that she had much of one. “Well…Mary Margaret moved out. She and David got married and just had a kid. A baby boy.”

Killian’s eyes lit up. “Did they now? And how does motherhood find the charming Mary Margaret?”

“She’s a great mom,” Emma said. “She’s still on maternity leave. I think she misses her students a lot, though.”

“And do you miss her? You lived with her for quite some time, I’ve gathered.”

Emma shrugged. “I still see her a lot. I’m at her and David’s place at least twice a week. And Ruby, you know, the barista, moved in with me, so the apartment never feels empty.”

Emma was glad when the waiter returned, giving her a reprieve from talking. He ordered a complicated sounding fish entrée while she stuck with chicken. All too soon the waiter whisked away and they were left alone again. Emma avoided his eyes for a second before deciding to go on the offensive.

“And what about you? What has the Captain been up to lately?”

“Oh, a bit of plundering here and there,” he said casually, flicking out his napkin onto his lap. “Nothing terribly exciting. Although I did attend a charity event at Eric’s gallery last month. His wife Ariel sang, she has a _lovely_ voice.”

“What was the charity for?” she asked.

“Navy vets,” he replied. “Eric’s very dedicated. It was a roaring success, I’m happy to add.”

“Gotta admit, didn’t peg you for a charity kind of guy,” Emma said.

He quirked a brow. “Volunteering information on the Crocodile and then helping you catch him doesn’t count as charity?”

“Well you didn’t exactly do it for _free_ , did you?” she challenged.

“I suppose that’s true. The cost of a kiss from you is priceless, after all.”

Emma nearly choked on her wine. Their food came a few minutes later. Emma was all too happy to dig into her meal, focusing more on the onion and garlic encrusted chicken than the man sitting across from her. It was a difficult thing to do, of course.

“You asked me about my pirate motif earlier,” he said. “Why I favored that theme.”

“Yeah, especially for a guy who was former Royal Navy,” she added.

His smile grew warm, not suggestive or irritating. It took her a second to realize his eyes went far into his memory. “When we were young, Liam and I dreamed of adventures on the high seas. He was always noble and stalwart; he was destined for the Navy. However I had a more mischievous streak.”

“Never would’ve guessed that,” Emma muttered.

“When we played pretend, I was a pirate and Liam would chase me all around the yard. We’d fight with wooden swords, exchange colorful threats, roughhouse as brothers do… That’s why I chose piracy as my theatrical calling card.”

Emma sat back, realizing the gravity of what he was telling her. “To honor your brother…”

He nodded. Emma rethought all of her encounters with the Captain. The bottled notes, the rum, the jargon…all for Liam. It’s why Killian became the Captain in the first place. For his brother. She looked up at the art thief again and raised her glass.

“To Liam Jones,” she said.

His lips blossomed into a smile that reached his blue eyes. He mirrored her movements. “To Liam.”


	5. Chapter 5

She was almost surprised he didn’t make some sort of play after dinner. He walked her to the hotel, chatting amiably the whole time, kissed her on the hand, and said goodnight, leaving her stunned on the steps. Emma had gone straight upstairs, took a quick shower, and fell into bed before she thought too much about anything.

The next morning she told him to meet her at the airport, bright and early, for the first flight to New York. Coffee in hand, she dragged her sparse luggage behind her and walked into Heathrow before the sun was even up. It wasn’t overly crowded yet, but Emma had already braced herself for a frustrating day of travel.

“Swan, this way!”

She turned towards the voice and saw Killian flagging her down. She threw a look back at the check-in line before shaking her head and walking over to him. What gave him the right to look _this_ good this early in the morning? She internally grumbled about his smile and upbeat demeanor.

“Check in’s that way, genius,” she said, hiking a thumb over her shoulder.

“For commercial flights, yes. Not private ones,” he said, reaching for her luggage. She was so stunned for a second that she actually let him take it. He started walking towards a separate area of the airport.

“Woah, woah, hold on. What are you talking about?” she asked, chasing after him.

“I’m sure the seats given to you by the FBI are…adequate, but I don’t fly commercial, love. Not when I’ve got a nice, cozy jet waiting for us.”

Emma grabbed the side-strap of the luggage, forcing him to stop. He sighed but relented, facing her. “You’re telling me you’ve got a private jet?” she asked point-blank.

“I have a _friend_ that has a private jet. And he’s been so kind as to lend it to us for the day. So _if_ you’re quite ready, Agent Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes but followed him, digging out her phone to cancel the previous tickets. It’d be better to brief Killian on a private flight, anyway. What she had to tell him wasn’t for public ears. And she couldn’t imagine him sitting cooped up in coach for an eight hour flight.

Killian led her through a VIP lounge where she replenished her coffee. From there they went through a very lax security check and were taken out to the jet on a golf cart. It was a small, but sleek plane. “So who’s this friend of yours?” she asked as they walked up the stairs into the cabin.

“A very affluent tradesman,” he replied, ducking into the doorway. “Mostly works shipping routes.”

“Another Navy buddy?”

“Definitely not.”

Killian didn’t offer any further explanation and Emma didn’t push; she was too busy looking around the interior of the jet. It looked more like a high-end office than a plane. The paneling was all wood, the cushions leather. The rotating plush seats could face each other at a desk or lie back to form a makeshift bed. There was a fully stocked mini-bar as well as a small kitchen. The TV mounted on one of the walls was bigger than the one she had back at the apartment. A bottle of champagne was sitting in an ice bucket waiting for them. Killian stowed his own carryon and popped the cork straight away.

“We have work to get to,” Emma reminded him, slipping into her seat.

“Certainly, my darling Swan, but I assure you _one_ glass of champagne will hardly distract me.” He threw the first flute back with surprising speed, making Emma quirk a brow. “All right, maybe two.” He poured a second helping before sitting across from her, one leg tucked over the other. He clipped his seatbelt on before the pilot even started his safety briefing.

Emma placed a few files on the table between them, compiling all her notes, eyes scanning over the information while they taxied. She leafed through a few pages before finding the one she wanted. The engines whined as they picked up speed. She felt herself press into her chair as they lifted off, soaring up into the sky. Without really thinking, she held down the loose folders with a hand while she continued reading.

When they leveled off a few moments later, she decided to begin. “Ok, so we discovered some under the table dealings that led us to—” She blinked, glancing up. “Are you ok?”

Killian was griping one arm of the seat with a white-knuckled grip. His jaw was set and eyes were up on the ceiling. “Just fine, Agent Swan. You were saying?”

But Emma was intrigued, a smile tugging on her open lips. “Wait. You’re afraid of flying?”

He looked down, his lips pressed into a thin line, unamused. “Of course not. I’m just eager to learn about what case you’re dragging me halfway across the world to work on.”

But a perfectly timed bout of turbulence called his bluff as he winced. Emma almost let out a laugh. “I can’t believe it. The _Captain_ is terrified of flying in planes.”

His eyes went flat. “Oh come on, _terrified_ is a bit much,” he sneered. “And besides, I don’t see why my… _aversion_ to flight amuses you so much.”

Emma smirked, glancing down again. “Oh no reason, no reason at all,” she said.

“Right, well can we get to the case? You were quite adamant about teaching me the details, as I recall,” he said, only relaxing his grip on the chair a little.

“Suit yourself. Tell me, Captain, have you ever come across Pixie Dust in your illustrious criminal career?”

Killian frowned. “I don’t dally in the drug trade, Swan. Nor do I partake. I tend to favor more…tasteful pleasures.”

“But you’ve heard of the stuff,” she insisted.

“Certainly. I may not dally, but word tends to circulate anyway. Potent powder, Pixie Dust. Can turn the best of men into a shivering pile of addiction,” he said, drumming his fingers on his knee. “I’m told it induces a dreamlike state. Where users can mentally play out fantasies.”

Emma nodded. “Like a waking lucid dream. It’s being pumped into the US like never before. The whole world’s seen a spike in production over the last five years.”

Killian put his champagne flute down, glancing at all the papers in front of him. “And why is the FBI interested in Pixie Dust? Seems like this would be fit for the DEA.”

“It’s a joint case,” Emma admitted. “The drugs are only part of the problem. The bigger one, the one _I_ care about, is how it’s being manufactured and distributed.”

Killian leaned forward, his sharp blue eyes alight in concentration. “It must be frightful indeed if Emma Swan traveled all this way to find me,” he said, watching her carefully. Emma tried to be neutral under his curious stare.

“Child labor,” she said. Killian went rigid. “We think he’s using kids to not only harvest the plants, but also bring the finished product across the border without suspicion.”

Whatever fear he’d felt from the plane was replaced by disgust and anger. Seeing him so agitated only affirmed her decision to bring him onto the project. “You said _he_ ,” Killian noted, looking up at her with dark eyes.

“We think that Peter Pan is leading the largest Pixie Dust cartel—the Lost Boys.”

“Pan? The bloke who owns Panpipe Entertainment?” he asked. His eyes went wide a second later as he sank back into his seat, realization seeping in. “The bastard whose charity matches orphaned children with foster homes…” Killian wiped his face with his hand, letting out a pained sigh. “Now I see why you said he was worse than Gold… Bloody hell.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Emma muttered.

“And what tipped the FBI off as to Mr. Pan’s side activities?” he asked.

“Someone in his organization. The Chief Communications Officer, a woman named Tina Green. Apparently she began having suspicions about Pan and did a little digging. What she found scared the hell out of her. She sat on the info for a while, afraid of what Pan and the Lost Boys might do to her if she snitched. But a little over a week ago she reached out to us.”

“I see the importance of such a case, but I still don’t see why it was delegated to your branch, Swan. You tend to chase down white collar criminals. Money launderers, identity scammers, devilishly handsome art thieves...”

Emma didn’t even react. “Higher-ups noted the similarities between the Crocodile case and this one. Both big-time names with little-known alter egos. And apparently Tina Green asked for me by name…”

Killian grinned despite the grim circumstances. “Look at you, my sweet Agent Swan. Seems like your fifteen minutes of fame aren’t quite over yet.”

“I’m not in it for the press,” she half-growled.

“Oh certainly not. But your successes are noticed the world over.”

“Exactly, which is why _I_ won’t be able to get a close look at whatever Pan’s up to. He’ll see me coming from miles away. But an undercover criminal…”

Killian nodded, crossing his legs again. “An undercover criminal might cozy up to the man and discover some naughty secrets,” he said.

“After Gold’s crooked FBI agents were rooted out, we made sure there was no one who knew the Captain worked with us that could talk. Anyone who could is locked away in a maximum security prison.”

Killian quirked a brow. “Even August Booth, the reporter?”

“Well…”

“And Robin Hood?”

“Ok, so not _everyone_ …but Booth and Robin have no reason to out you. I trust them. Mostly.”

“Word could still spread,” Killian warned. “Criminals are a gossipy bunch. And the Crocodile always did like to talk.”

“We’ve monitored underground chatter extremely close,” she assured him. “Tested the waters, listened to the word on the Captain. Nobody suspects you of working with us.”

He wasn’t placated by the news, but didn’t say anything else about it. “And what’s to be my introduction to Mr. Pan?” he asked. “I’m an art thief, not a drug pusher.”

“We want you to steal a painting of his.”

Killian’s brows shot straight up. It was hardly the time to be amused, but Emma couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of victory whenever she surprised him. “Bold, to say the least,” he muttered.

“That’s the idea. Get his attention. Pan’s hosting a charity gala for his orphanage organization—Children of Neverland. It’s a big fancy soiree, lots of the social elite donating buckets of money and posing for the cameras.”

“Ah, so much for charity for charity’s sake,” he mused.

“We want you to steal something of his during the gala.”

“And why would the Captain be inclined to go after such a risky target?” he asked, leaning forward again. His blue eyes were glittering. Emma swallowed back a smirk, knowing he was hooked.

“To prove a point,” she said.

“The point being?”

“That Pan needs to up his security. The Captain is an expert on evading and breaking through any security system on the market. You could, in theory, thief-proof anything. Your expertise could really be an asset to Pan’s enterprise. If the FBI put pressure on him, start sniffing around the Children of Neverland project or an association with the Lost Boys, he might get desperate enough to hire you, to ensure his shipments of Pixie Dust were safe,” she said.

Killian’s smirk grew, his eyes alight. “And then I’d be your inside man.”

Emma sat back. “Exactly.” She glanced down at the files, choosing her next words carefully. She could feel him watching her. With a sigh, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. “I’m gonna be honest with you…this assignment is a dangerous one. The Crocodile might have been trying to build a name for himself, but Pan already has his empire. _Two_ empires, really. Going after him will paint a very real target on the back of your head.”

“That, my darling Swan, I’m quite used to.” He tipped his empty champagne glass in a mock salute. She closed her eyes for a second and sucked in a breath, steadying herself.

“I’m serious. When you’re undercover, the FBI’s not gonna be right behind you. There has to be distance. If we get too close to you, your cover will be blown…and I’m sure I don’t have to show you pictures of what the Lost Boys do to their enemies.”

His expression flickered to distaste again. “No, I’d rather you not. All the same, I don’t look forward to this _distance_ you’re suggesting. I’d rather have you close by, Swan.”

He seemed a bit surprised when she laughed, running a hand through her hair. He was incorrigible, and irritating sure, but sometimes his stupid comments and humor came at the best times. She’d already spent months working on the Peter Pan case, spent long sleepless nights poring over tedious reports and data charts. It was only going to get worse, and far more risky. A little bit of tongue-in-cheek humor might help.

“Well I won’t _totally_ leave you to fend for yourself,” she said.

His smile grew into something less than professional. “I trust you’ll have my back, as the saying goes,” he said, his eyes dipping down towards her lips, her throat…

She just rolled her eyes and stared at the window, watching London fall away beneath a bank of clouds.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ah, Agent Nolan, or I suppose I ought to say _Supervisor_ Nolan now. Congratulations on the promotion, mate, and your bouncing baby boy.” Killian’s tone may have been congratulatory, but David’s expression was practically murderous. He threw Emma a glare before shutting his eyes for a second and breathing out.

“We didn’t bring you all the way over here just to catch up,” David said, trying to keep his cool. He spread his hands out on his desk. It was a little cramped with all three of them in his office.

“What is it with you Americans and insisting on getting right to the point of things?” Killian asked with a sigh. “Always rushing about, never taking a moment just to enjoy—”

“We’re not taking a walk through the park here, Killian, we’re trying to take down a child-trafficking drug lord,” Emma said, crossing her arms.

Killian sobered, standing up a little straighter. “When is Pan’s Children of Neverland gala?”

“In three days, Saturday night,” David said, glancing down at the sheets on his desk.

Killian winced. “Not much time to plan a heist, mate,” he said.

“I thought the Captain was the best art thief out there,” David countered.

Killian’s blue eyes flicked up, locking onto the supervisor’s. “Oh I am. And part of that well-deserved fame comes from the fact that I’ve never been _caught_. I don’t make reckless mistakes. All the same, you want one of Pan’s paintings lifted right out from under his nose? Consider it done.”

“And you realize we’re kind of in the legal grey area here, right?” Emma said. “Breaking into private property and stealing something, even in pursuit of a case, is, well…”

“It has to be done by the book,” David finished. “ _No_ funny business. You will take the painting and bring it to us so we can properly store it until this is all over. We have to plan and document everything. So no showboating.”

Killian rolled his eyes, shifting his weight on his feet. “If you want the _Captain_ in on this, Agent Nolan, showboating is to be expected. It’s a dramatic persona I’ve created, and they’ll expect some flair.”

David pinched the bridge of his nose. “The point is, if we slip up even a little, you can bet your ass Pan’s very expensive lawyers will use it against us and overturn the trial. Pan will get away and continue pumping Pixie Dust into the streets.”

“You worry about your upstanding by-the-book lawyer end, and I’ll do what I do best and steal art. I can’t be hindered by rules when I partner up with Pan. I have to fully play the part,” Killian argued.

Emma’s head fell back for a second. She stared at the ceiling as the two men continued to growl at each other. She had jetlag, had spilled coffee on her favorite shirt this morning, and did not have the time or patience to hear them go for each other’s throats any more.

“This is a deep cover mission. Killian’s going to have to fully commit,” she said.

Killian’s face brightened, his lips curling back over his teeth to reveal a smug smile at David. The FBI supervisor fumed. “Even deep cover missions have protocols, Emma,” he said. “And how do we even know we can trust him, huh? What’s stopping him from hightailing it out of here with that painting? Or _actually_ partnering with Pan?”

Killian’s entire being went rigid, his jaw flaring as he clenched his teeth together. “Watch it, mate,” he growled. “I may be a thief, but I have a code of honor. I don’t steal from those who can’t afford it, I don’t kill if it can be helped, and I don’t _ever_ hurt _children_. Peter Pan is a rotten bastard who does all three. I wouldn’t ally myself to him for all the treasures in the world.”

They stared each other down, chests puffed out, silently clashing in a show of will and dominance. Emma sighed. “If we’re done with the yelling portion of this meeting, can we move onto the part where we go out and meet with Tina Green?”

Neither of them looked at her, but mumbled out agreements. David was practically chained to his desk by the new job, but hated the fact that he couldn’t go out and investigate on his own. He didn’t say it in so many words, but he hated the idea of Emma on the job with only Killian as back up. Despite the fact that he’d brought in the Crocodile, David still didn’t count on the art thief keeping his word. “Don’t trust him,” David warned before she left the office.

Emma was plagued by his words as she shrugged on her jacket and left the building—he held the door open for her, but she barely was even aware enough to say thanks. _Did_ she trust Killian? He was a con-man, for sure, a criminal. She’d spent half of her career chasing him down. He was a liar and a cheat, a scammer. But he’d come through for her more than once. When she was kidnapped, he rescued her. When she was shot, he healed her. And when she went to him for help, he answered the call without hesitation. And besides, the whole reason he started his criminal career was to raise money for his brother’s hospital bills…

 _Could_ she trust him? A thief with a good heart? She knew he wouldn’t throw her under the bus and join up with Pan for real. His reaction of disgust at learning the truth about the CEO of Panpipe Entertainment was genuine. And he’d promised to help even before knowing what he was getting himself into…she’d yet to see him actually break a promise.

“You’re deep in thought, aren’t you, Swan?”

His voice shook her out of her mind. “What?”

“I asked you where we’re meeting Tina Green three times now. You seem more invested in the sidewalk cracks than my sultry voice, which usually you pay rapt attention to.”

She made a face at him—which only made him grin—before answering. “We’re meeting her at a local crafts store. Some place public, inconspicuous. Apparently she frequents the place. It won’t be out of the ordinary to see her talking to strangers there.”

“Ah,” Killian hummed. “Clever. And tell me, why did Ms. Green reach out to the FBI in the first place? You mentioned she was hesitant to speak out against Pan, what changed her mind?”

Emma glanced around the crowd while they walked down the street. She lowered her voice, hunching her shoulders against the brisk wind. “A few weeks ago, an orphanage raised concern about one of their recent adoptees. Pan’s charity had matched her up with a suitable family, but the orphanage said that the letters they were getting back from the little girl felt… _off_.”

“Off how?” Killian asked, his brows furrowing.

“Like they didn’t sound like the girl. It was just a gut feeling, but they requested to meet with her, just to make sure the transition was going smoothly. Got a letter back from Children of Neverland, forbidding a meeting. Tina Green caught wind of the exchange and did some digging. Followed up on the adoption papers…turns out, the parents that adopted the little girl don’t exist. They were forged identities, a paper trail to fool authorities and the orphanage.”

“So the bastard’s faking the adoption of orphans just to send them into the jungle and harvest hallucinogenic plants? I’ve met my share of cold-hearted monsters in my time within the criminal underworld, but this…this is an entirely new level of depravity.”

“So let’s nail this sick son of a bitch,” Emma said, striding forward with purpose. Killian caught up to her a second later and thought better of asking her what was with the sudden surge of motivation.


	7. Chapter 7

Tina Green certainly lived up to her name. She was dressed head-to-toe in a green business suit. Even the hairclip pinning up her blonde hair was emerald. She was peering at some wooden dowels in the craft store, obviously more preoccupied with whatever she was thinking about than the actual craft supplies.

“Planning a craft project?” Emma asked, glancing up and down the bins of supplies.

Tina Green jumped a little at the sudden voice. She quickly recomposed herself and nodded. “I’m a little bit of a DIY nut,” she said. “I’m working on making some custom frames for some art pieces I want to hang up.”

Emma nodded. Beside her, Killian picked up a bottle of wood glue and pretended to read the label. “I’m Emma,” she said, reaching out her hand towards the Panpipe worker.

Tina Green swallowed but her shoulders set. “Tina,” she said.

“I think we might be interested in the same project, Tina,” Emma replied. “We’re looking for some art too.”

Tina sighed. “I wasn’t followed,” she said, “I was extra careful.”

“Good. What can you tell us about the Children of Neverland gala? We have a plan but we need all the information we can get.”

Killian set the wood glue back and nonchalantly checked behind them in the aisle. “We had to add extra tickets. They sold out in a snap. It will be held at his children’s museum—Neverland. I printed out some security details…” Tina rummaged in her forest green briefcase and held out the file to Emma. She passed it to Killian who started leafing through it.

He let out a whistle as his eyes skimmed the page. “Impressive system, this,” he said, flipping another page. “But workable.”

“So what _exactly_ is the plan?” Tina asked, eyeing him.

“Less you know, the better, love,” he said, tucking the file under his arm. “I like to be surprising.” His flashing grin only made her roll her eyes.

“What about Pan? Has he been acting strange? Have you heard anything about Pixie Dust shipments or the children?”

Tina shook her head. “No, nothing. He’s very careful. I’ve been worried about digging too deep because, well…”

“I understand,” Emma said. “Did the orphanage respond at all after being told they were forbidden from seeing the little girl?”

Tina scratched the back of her ear. “Just more letters of complaint. They’re really worried. Hell, _I’m_ worried. I had no idea I was working for a psychopath!”

Killian glanced around the store again, checking for eavesdroppers. Emma raised her hand a little to placate the agitated communications officer. “We’ll get him,” she promised. “Until then, you have to act like everything is normal. Tomorrow, the FBI is going to start leaning on him a little bit. Nothing too big, just enough to make him nervous. If you hear anything out of the ordinary, let us know. And if you ever get worried for your own safety, get out as soon as you can. We can protect you.”

Tina nodded, sucking in a big breath and sighing it out. When she looked back up, her eyes were sharp and full of determination. “I need to get back to work,” she said. With that, she strode down the aisle, not bothering to purchase anything. Emma glanced at Killian before pretending to browse the aisle. Fifteen minutes later they left and headed back for the office.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma paused outside her apartment door, key already in the lock. She smelled dinner cooking, but more often than not Ruby would just order takeout. Frowning a little, Emma pushed open the door. She could’ve floated on the scent of the food alone, like a cartoon character.

“Surprise!” Mary Margaret sang, pushing something around in a pan.

“What’s this?” Emma asked, setting down her bag on the couch and accepting the beer David handed her.

“Well, we know you’re going to be busy this week, so we thought we’d start it off right,” her former roommate explained, adding some spice to the pan. “Ruby, can you hand me the pepper?”

Ruby appeared from down the hall and handed Mary Margaret the shaker. Emma relaxed into the arm chair opposite the sofa, mirroring David’s relaxed position. “Who’s on baby duty?” she asked, tipping the bottle to her lips.

“Belle,” David replied.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring the little guy over. Half a blink and you get separation anxiety, M,” Emma teased. David stifled a laugh. Mary Margaret just gave her a look over her shoulder.

“Dr. Hopper said a _little_ bit of mother-child separation was healthy,” she recited, scooting the contents of the pan into a serving bowl. Emma thought it was meat sauce for spaghetti, but was too engulfed in the feeling of the plush chair to strain her neck and look.

“All right, just about…ready! Come and get it,” Mary Margaret said.

Emma groaned, not wanting to get up just yet. David held out a hand and hoisted her up, clapping her on the shoulder as they made their way into the dining room. Ruby was already scooping pasta onto her plate, Mary Margaret making sure everything was on the table.

Emma loved these moments, rare as they were. Just sitting around a table, eating, chatting about menial stuff—the weather, a new song on the radio, a hilarious commercial. When Mary Margaret moved out the moments became rarer. Ruby was a great roommate, but they didn’t see each other all that much.

“So I found the _cutest_ puppy at the shelter today,” Ruby started. Emma rolled her eyes, stuffing some spaghetti in her mouth before she could say anything. “A little collie, had the _bluest_ eyes. Chased his tail till he was so dizzy he fell down.”

“You guys could use a dog around here, liven the place up,” David said.

“We’re not starting this again,” Emma said, half-laughing. “Between my crazy hours at the FBI and Ruby’s double-shifts at the coffee stand and the diner, we’d never take care of the thing.”

“But one of his ears is floppy and the other is straight,” Ruby fake-pouted, putting her hands behind her head like doggy ears. Everyone laughed.

“If puppy dog eyes worked on me, I wouldn’t be very good at my job,” Emma teased.

Ruby snorted. “Fine, how ‘bout a hamster?”

“No.”

“A goldfish?”

“Maybe.”


	9. Chapter 9

Emma stared down at her desk, pages scattered across it. Her eyes scanned the Panpipe Entertainment information, looking for pressure points to lean on in order to make the CEO a little nervous. She drummed her fingers against the desk edge, unconsciously biting her lip in concentration. Leaning on the gala itself might be too obvious. She didn’t want to throw suspicion on Killian suddenly showing up out of the blue and offering his services to Pan. Maybe the upset orphanage? No…it wouldn’t make sense for them to go straight to the FBI. She couldn’t afford to raise _too_ many red flags. But what about accusations of embezzling charity funds? It was a common enough thought of any big corporation fundraiser, right? She could fabricate some sort of suspicion from one of the “donors.”

Emma’s concentration was interrupted when a cup of coffee appeared in front of her. “Fuel for the fire in your eyes, Swan,” Killian said with a smirk. She took the coffee without thinking before shaking herself out of her thoughts.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were planning your heist today.” She took a sip and was slightly surprised to find it was her regular order. How had he even remembered?

Killian shrugged, hand wrapped around his own drink, and leaned against her desk. “Thought I’d utilize what resources I could here to case Mr. Pan’s venue before going there myself.”

Emma raised her brows. “Like what?”

“Like building schematics, maps of the surrounding area, architecture contracts, those sorts of things. It’s all a matter of public record, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m just surprised you don’t know a guy who owes you a favor who just _happens_ to have access to every schematic in the city,” she mused.

“I do,” he said, lifting his chin with a smug grin, “but you and Supervisor Nolan made it quite apparent that you wanted me to go through as many _legal_ channels as I could. Consider this me being cooperative.”

Emma held his gaze for a moment. “What’s your angle, Jones?”

He scoffed, pretending to look hurt. He placed his hand on my heart. “You wound me, Agent Swan. Why would I lie about my intentions?”

“Stop bullshitting me, what is it?” she asked, trying not to roll her eyes.

He sighed. “Given the string of semi-illegal things I’m going to do in the future, I thought I’d start off with a little goodwill. A show of faith, as it were. I’m fully aware that Nolan thinks I might skip off with whatever wealth Pan gives to me.” He paused, any sort of mischief or play replaced by a genuine expression. “And because this is what I owe you, Emma. I came here to repay my debt to you, and to do so I’ll play by your rules. Mostly.”

Emma didn’t know what to say for a few seconds. She was short-circuited by the unguarded look in his eyes. No ulterior motive. No flirty suggestions. No schemes or ploys. Just…Killian Jones. Just honesty.

She moved around to the other side of the desk, flipping the pages around and losing herself in the information again. After a moment she pinched the bridge of her nose. Picking up her phone, she punched in a number and put it on speaker. Killian waited with a quirked brow.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Belle, could you do me a favor?” Emma asked.

“Of course.”

“Could you take Killian down to records? He’s looking for anything we’ve got on the Neverland Children’s Museum.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Belle started, clearly a little surprised by the request. With one last parting look, Killian dipped his head towards Emma and headed down towards the elevators to wait for Belle French. It was more than five minutes before Emma could get her head back into the work.


	10. Chapter 10

While Killian worked on formulating his heist, she had to spook Peter Pan. She didn’t imagine he was a man who was easily put off, so she had to pull out all the stops. She wore her most intimidating outfit—a sharp black blazer with a crisp button-up shirt beneath it, her hair pulled tightly back into a pony tail—and had already set her face into a no-nonsense expression before even entering Panpipe Tower.

Posters of Panpipe’s most famous TV shows, movies, and books lined the walls of the high-ceiling lobby. Everything was grand and modern, but still maintained some element of…whimsy. It wasn’t a stuffy business office, nor a heartless corporate skyscraper, but it did try to make the people inside feel small. Emma refused.

“Special Agent Emma Swan, here to see Mr. Pan,” she said, flashing her badge. The secretary seemed startled for a seconds before clicking something on her computer.

“Of course. Mr. Pan will be happy to see you straight away. Take the elevator on your left to the 77th floor. He’s waiting for you.”

Several eyes followed her as she strode towards the elevator. She waited alongside some hipster-looking man with a manuscript in hand and a scrawny glasses-wearing assistant with a tray of coffee in his arms. They both glanced at her when she punched the floor 77 button.

The elevator let out into a massive office, practically taking up the entire floor. The ceiling-high windows offered an unparalleled view of the city sprawling beneath the Tower. Peter Pan was tossing a ball between his hands, staring out into the streets below, talking into a Bluetooth.

“No, no, move it to the middle of January. We don’t want to compete with all the Christmas specials going on…yes I know people hate six-week hiatuses in the middle of a season, but you know what I hate? Ratings dropping because every family has to watch Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer because it’s tradition… See that it’s done.”

He turned after clicking off his headset, smiling as he saw her. She’d seen him on TV plenty of times over the years, or his face plastered onto some magazine or another, but the man always looked younger than he was. It was startling, really. Sure, he’d started Panpipe Entertainment straight out of college, but he hardly looked like he’d aged since then. Emma shoved it all aside to focus.

“Ah, you must be Agent Swan. Come in, come in, would you like some lemon water? Tea? Coffee?”

“I’d like to get straight to business, if you don’t mind,” she replied.

“To the point. Good. I don’t like wasting time on pleasantries, I doubt you do either, Ms. Swan.”

“Agent,” she replied, taking a few steps further into the office. “I’m here because recent allegations have surfaced about the legitimacy of your Children of Neverland program, specifically the funding for it.”

Pan sighed, leaning against his desk and folding his hands in his lap. “This wouldn’t be the first time. People are paranoid when they see the word _charity_ ; we’re all so jaded these days we forget people actually have kind hearts and want to give back with no ulterior motives.”

Emma did her best not to roll her eyes. “Panpipe Entertainment has had suspicions of embezzlement in the past,” she said, pulling out files from her briefcase.

“All put to rest as _false_ , as I’m sure you know,” he said, glancing through the files.

“Thanks to some expensive lawyers,” she added.

His eyes flicked up to hers. “And lack of evidence, Agent Swan.”

She studied him for just a second. He had a boyish face and messy blonde hair, but the sharp intelligence in his green eyes made him look anything but innocent. He might have the easy gait and smooth voice of a talk show host, but there was something in his gaze that made him feel less than friendly. It was more of a feeling than an observation. Emma had always been good at sorting out the truth.

“Who, may I ask, is making these new accusations?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” she said.

Pan snorted. “Typical. Enemies take shots from the shadows while being too afraid to show their face. Of course, it’s made worse when the shots they’re firing are towards a charity for orphans.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d like this resolved as quickly and painlessly as possible, Agent Swan. You’ll have my full cooperation, of course. Anything I can do to show you and your anonymous accuser that the Children of Neverland program is 100% in the interest of the kids it’s helping.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Emma said.

His watch beeped. He glanced down at it and made a frustrated sound. “I’ve got a meeting across town in twenty minutes, so I have to run. My assistant Tina Green can answer any of the questions you have. I’ll let everyone in the company know they’re to help in any way they can.” He shrugged into his suit jacket and handed the files back to her.

“Keep them,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be talking to you again soon, Mr. Pan.”

He nodded towards her and headed for the elevator, but paused halfway out the door. “I’m hosting a gala this weekend, for the charity. I’m sure many of the donors would be happy to answer questions about their involvement with the program. Why don’t you stop by? I’ll send you an invitation.”

Emma jolted on the inside, surprised by his boldness, but kept her outward expression neutral. “I might just do that. Thank you.”

With that, Pan held the door open for her and they both rode the elevator to the lobby. Emma’s heart was racing. She was standing so close to him. A child trafficking drug lord parading around as the Walt Disney of the modern generation. She had to clench her fists to keep her cool. Grit her teeth until her jaw ached. She watched him stride out of the building and duck into a car that sped him off.

Hopefully her visit and threat of a case against him would be enough to chase him into Killian’s offer.


	11. Chapter 11

“ _Dammit_.”

“Still not picking up?” David asked.

Emma tossed her phone down onto her desk, glaring at it. “No. We knew he might go radio silent for a while but considering we haven’t heard from him since _before_ I got invited…”

“Well, according to him, he’s good at batting curveballs,” David said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t think he’s a sports metaphor kind of guy,” Emma mused, shrugging into her coat.

“My point is, he’s adaptable. It shouldn’t matter if you’re there or not.”

“Just wish he’d clued us in on his plan,” she sighed, “just so _I’d_ know what to expect.”

She was jittery, this wasn’t like their undercover mission to De Vil’s fashion show. This time Pan knew _exactly_ who she was. And since it was just an embezzlement case she was working, she couldn’t be armed to the teeth. She couldn’t count on Killian as backup since he had his own goal, and Pan would be paying extra attention to her throughout the night so it wasn’t likely she could plant a bug on him or anything else in the museum. At the very least, she could gather intel about people involved with Children of Neverland and provide a distraction for Killian to do his work.

She wore the same black dress as the De Vil mission, though this time her hair was pinned up. Security was likely to be tighter at Pan’s event than the fashionista’s, so she was armed with nothing but her wits.

“We’ll have agents posted a few blocks away, just in case things get dicey,” David added. “And if Killian gets caught…”

“He won’t,” she said, faster than intended.

“ _If_ he does…there’s not a lot we can do to help him. Not without blowing his cover wide open. He’ll have to sweet-talk his way out.”

“He’s good at that,” Emma mused, earning a hard look from David.

She squared her shoulders and set out, hopping in the taxi that took her across the city to the Neverland Children’s Museum. It was awash with spotlights and camera flashes. Glittery dresses and sharp suits walked into the front doors of the enormous glass building decorated with storybook characters and creatures.

The paparazzi had a field day. Emma tried to ignore the fact that she was standing elbow to elbow with the rich and famous of New York. When they shuffled up to the front, she presented her invitation to the attendant who ushered her inside.

All over the colorfully decorated walls were quotes about imagination: “Logic will get you from A to B, imagination will get you everywhere.” “The world is but a canvas to the imagination.” “Imagination is more important than knowledge.”

It was less a museum and more an interactive dedication to childlike creativity. Great mobiles hung above them, moving around with crazy shapes and moving parts. There were models of hot air balloons, rockets, flying ships, dragons, and jetpacks soaring above their heads. Enormous sculptures of things like castles, butterflies, dinosaurs, suits of armor, and volcanoes were displayed throughout the wide floor. She saw separate rooms with labels like _The Rainforest_ and _Outer Space_ blocked off with red velvet ropes for the night. The entire ceiling was painted with constellations. Hard to believe a heartless drug kingpin could create something as… _pure_ as this.

There was a grand ballroom dedicated to special events such as these, notably less whimsical than the rest of the museum. It was high class and fancy, with crystal chandeliers and incredibly expensive looking paintings. The whole venue was nearly the size of a football field, lined with priceless art. For a few minutes, Emma milled around with champagne in hand, wondering which piece would soon be missing.

“Agent Swan, if I’m not mistaken.”

Emma turned at the sound of her name and saw, with some surprise, the Mayor of NYC—Regina Mills. “Madame Mayor,” Emma said politely, reaching out with one hand.

“That was _excellent_ work you did on the Crocodile case, Agent Swan,” the politician said, smiling. “Who would’ve thought that Robert Gold was behind it all?”

“Sometimes the people you least expect are the ones who turn out to be the bad guys,” Emma said.

Regina rolled her eyes, taking a long sip of her champagne before replying. “I’ll say. Imagine my surprise when my own _mother_ turned out to be the Queen of Hearts! That will _not_ make reelection easy, let me tell you.” Regina paused to think for a second. “Didn’t you have something to do with exposing her?”

“My team did, yes,” Emma said, feeling suddenly a little awkward. The animosity between the Mills family was well known, but still she wasn’t thrilled to be talking about arresting the mayor’s mother with her.

Regina sighed and finished off her flute of champagne. She glanced around the gallery for a moment, eyes flitting over the people before she frowned a little. “What brings you here, Agent Swan?”

“A case, actually,” Emma admitted. It was never a good idea to outright lie to government officials in charge of warrants and jurisdiction. “Nothing as thrilling as the Crocodile. Just an embezzlement accusation.”

Regina looked mildly surprised. “Against Children of Neverland?”

“Well, Pan specifically,” Emma clarified.

“I’m not just here for a photo op, Agent Swan, I’ve personal history with this charity. Children of Neverland matched my son to me when he was very little. He’s the best thing in my life, and I owe that to Peter Pan,” the mayor said.

She wasn’t lying, either. Emma tried to swallow her shock. Their case against Peter Pan just became a whole lot rockier. If some of the adoptions coming out of Children of Neverland were legitimate, it would be harder to prove its fraud—especially if the mayor’s son went through the program. _Damn smart bastard_ …

Regina was called away by someone who wanted to chat. Emma glanced around, spying several famous faces—the acting couple Aurora and Phillip, Olympic gold-medalist archer Merida DunBroch, even the author Isaac Heller. Emma’s frustrations rose. The more and more celebrity endorsement, the bigger the challenge. One scathing Tweet could effectively end her career if she didn’t play everything exactly right.

The sound of clinking glass drew everyone’s attention away from their conversations and towards the sharply dressed man in a green tie at the podium. Now his hair was neatly coifed and his smile charming. “Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Children of Neverland Charity Gala.” Pan paused for the applause before continuing. “Tonight, we prove the world over that the plight of young, mother and fatherless children will not be ignored. Tonight, we show those very children that there is hope for them, that there is a family somewhere who will love and cherish them. Tonight, we pool our resources together in order to aid those less fortunate.”

Emma felt her grip tightening on her flute glass. No, she couldn’t get worked up now. She had to focus. Stay cool. This was a recon mission, not a takedown. She had to be patient. Peter Pan would be taken down in time…

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight, and for your generous contributions to this program. So let’s celebrate this evening and tomorrow we get to work on helping children in need.” He raised his glass in a toast, mirrored by everyone in the room, and soon the conversations rose up again.

Emma chatted with a few more donators, asking about their personal involvement with the charity. Some had no connection at all, just “felt like lending a hand,” others had friends of friends who adopting via Children of Neverland. Nobody was suspicious. Nobody had doubts. She felt the tide of the room turn against her—an FBI naysayer throwing accusations at a heartfelt program.

“Agent Swan, I’m so glad you could make it.” The voice was amiable enough, but it still sent a shiver down her spine. She forced a smile and turned around to greet Peter Pan.

“Thank you again for the invitation. This is…quite the event.”

He smiled, his hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s a bit dramatic, I’ll admit that. But then I’ve never been shy about liking theatrics.”

“I’d believe that given this museum alone. It’s incredible.”

“Creativity and imagination are the greatest tools we humans have, Agent Swan. In children, that tool is limitless, _full_ of potential. Sometimes as adults we forget how to wield it. _That’s_ the mark I want to make on this world: to emphasize the importance and magic of childhood.”

“A noble goal,” Emma said.

“Have I convinced you already, Agent Swan?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. I just follow the facts. Right now my job is to follow up on this claim.”

“I think you and I both know that belief _always_ matters, Agent Swan. Nevertheless, I’m glad to hear that your investigation isn’t necessarily a personal one.” It took every bit of willpower Emma had not to react. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle.” She just nodded. When he was gone, she let a breath whistle out of her clenched teeth. Not personal? Oh he had _no_ idea…

Emma had no time to decompress or recollect herself, because a few seconds later all the lights went out, leaving the gala in darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

Worried conversations got louder and louder as the blackout went on. Emma tried to peer through the darkness, see Killian going to work. “Please, everyone, don’t panic. It’s just a simple power outage. Apparently we’re just having too much fun for the system to handle,” Pan’s voice announced in the dark. Some nervous laughter eased the tension. “The lights will be on soon, our electricians are already on it.”

Some people dug their phones out of their pockets and used the flashlight feature, but with such a large room it didn’t help too much. Without any warning, the lights kicked back on, temporarily blinding the crowd. They complained beneath their breaths. Emma’s eyes scanned the room. The lights had only been out for a minute and a half—was that really enough time?

Sure enough, a display once housing a small painting was empty. Emma found her lips tilting up. It didn’t take long for people to notice. The security guards were quick to engage. Soon walkie-talkies were crackling with shouts of an unfamiliar electrician hurrying down the hall. Emma’s gut sank. Killian was a great thief, but Pan was ruthless. Something had gone wrong. He was supposed to be in and out without any detection whatsoever.

She hurried towards the door nearest the stolen painting. They had effectively locked down the ball room, refusing to let anyone in or out until the thief was caught. She flashed her badge in the face of one guard. “FBI. Art crimes,” she half barked. The man hesitated only for a second before allowing her through. She jogged down the hall, one hand tight around her phone just in case. She had no weapon, no immediate backup, and no good way of getting Killian out of trouble.

Security guards were already on route; she could hear them clamoring behind her. Which escape route would he take? The nearest since his plan was cut short? The original, whichever that was? An improvised route? Emma took an educated guess and headed out into the backlot of the museum, for maintenance trucks and repairmen. Sure enough, there was Killian and Smee, both dressed in blue jeans and yellow hard hats, stuffing a painting into the back of an unmarked panel van.

Smee jumped when he heard her burst through the door, dropping his toolbox and scattering the contents. There were a lot more than standard repair tools.

“ _Emma_? What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Killian whisper-shouted.

Emma glanced back at the door while hurrying forward to scoop up some of Smee’s fallen items. “Not now! I’ll stall them. Hurry!” Killian’s jaw clenched but he wasted no time climbing into the front of the truck and starting the engine. Smee clambered up into the back. Emma slammed the doors shut just as the wheels started to gain traction. The van sped away into the streets just as security guards reached the backlot.

“Who are you?” one man snapped.

“FBI,” Emma said, not bothering to look at them.

“ _FBI_? Did you know this place was gonna be hit?”

“No,” she answered, “but I got the plate numbers. Probably stolen, but it’s something to start with. Tell your boss I’ll track down his piece.” With that, Emma whisked back into the building, her phone glued to her ear the whole time. She faked an entire conversation into the phone, David asking what questions he could from his side. She pretended to give a report of the incident while flying down the halls, and hailing a taxi, just to keep up appearances.

When the yellow car pulled away from the museum she hung up and let out an enormous sigh, sinking into the seat and rubbing her face in her hands. “Rough night?” the cabbie asked, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Not as rough as it’s gonna get,” she muttered.


	13. Chapter 13

They’d set up a rendezvous point to reconnect after the heist. Emma was more than a little relieved to see the panel van waiting at the warehouse parking lot half the city away. Killian opened the driver’s side door the instant he saw her walking up.

“Wasn’t expecting you to make an appearance, Swan,” he said, hitting the side of the van with his palm twice. Smee unlocked the back and hopped out, dragging the covered painting with him.

“Neither was I,” Emma admitted. “Pan invited me last minute. Some play at transparency, I guess.”

“Well, I suppose it’s good fortune you were there, Agent Swan. Without an intrepid FBI agent there to take point, Pan’s men might have very well chased me down,” he said, flashing a smile. Even without his signature coifed hair or leather jacket, he was still maddeningly attractive. She tried to focus on his hair falling in his eyes and the worn blue work shirt, the ugly scuffed boots, or the cartoonish lightning bolt logo advertising Zeus Electric on his breast pocket of his grey jacket.

“Not as smooth as we’d hoped,” she said, resting her hands on her hips and staring down at the puddles in the parking lot.

“The backup generators were certainly a surprise,” Killian mused. “They didn’t show up in any of the plans Belle and I researched. Nonetheless, it might work to our advantage. A more _public_ display of Pan’s security flaw will make him all the more desperate for my services. He won’t be able to afford not to.”

“Slow down there, cowboy,” Emma said. “One thing at a time. First you gotta make sure Pan’s not going to straight up kill you for stealing his painting and humiliating him. How are you planning to make your approach?”

His lips quirked up into a grin, eyes turning sultry. “That, my dear Agent Swan, is a problem for another day. Tonight I think I’ll ride the high of stealing from one of the most influential men in the world. It’s quite the adrenaline rush, as you can imagine.”

Emma’s eyes flicked towards Smee, who suddenly found himself very busy sifting through his toolbox. “First we got to get this painting to evidence. Then debrief the team,” she reminded him.

“No, _first_ I have to change out of this ridiculous disguise,” he countered. “I don’t _do_ denim if I don’t have to.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Pan’s about to start a witch hunt and you’re worried about your _wardrobe_?”

“Can you blame me for feeling so underdressed?” he asked, his eyes glancing down at her dress. Emma flushed, suddenly remembering what she was wearing. And of course in all the excitement she’d forgotten her coat at the museum…she couldn’t hide beneath anything now.

“We’re still on the clock, in case you forgot,” she said.

“Right. Smee, hide the van and stow our gear. Burn the disguises. I’ll talk with you later.”

“Will do, boss,” Smee said, hurrying to the cab of the van. Emma wished _she_ could get away from the brewing tension. Killian wasn’t entirely wrong about the adrenaline rush. She’d had her share of excitement for the last two days—both in confronting one of the most powerful men in the world and then helping steal from him.

Killian plucked up the portrait sized painting and rested it against his hip, absently readjusting the burlap cover while Smee drove off with the van. Things grew horribly quiet as the engine faded away, leaving Emma standing with the art thief on an adrenaline high.

“Hailing a taxi, are we?” he asked, his voice melting out of the silence.

“No. An agent’s on their way to pick us up,” she answered, glancing down at her phone.

“ETA?” he asked. She just looked at him. “What? I can’t pick up FBI jargon?”

She rolled her eyes and sent a text to the agent assigned to their extraction. “Ten minutes,” she said.

He made some non-committal sound before he cocked his head to the side. “You’re shivering,” he said. Goosebumps were running up and down her bare arms. She hadn’t really noticed until he mentioned it. All at once the cold came sweeping in.

“Left my coat,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“Here.” He set the painting against the wall of the warehouse and shrugged out of his bulky slate-grey jacket. Before she could protest, he draped it around her shoulders. Without really meaning to, Emma nestled into the pre-warmed coat, taking comfort in the sudden heat and scent of him. She fit her arms through and fumbled with the zipper thanks to her half-frozen fingers. Without a word, Killian reached out and zipped the jacket up, getting rid of any sort of distance between them.

“You know,” he said, staring at her lips, “I can think of a few other ways to chase away the cold.”

He was hovering so close, warm and solid against the late fall wind. Her heart had barely slowed down since the heist and now was ramping up again. She was practically drowning in his scent and proximity. His movements were slow, but purposeful, hands resting so lightly on her hips, head moving forward.

Emma’s eyelids fluttered as she gaped at his mouth drawing near. Her head was reeling. “W-we should…”

“We should what, my darling Swan?” he asked, nose practically brushing her own.

“We should…”

Even she didn’t know what she was going to say. Or wanted to say. The second his lips brushed hers she was lost. Whatever slowness they were building up to immediately fell away to rapid kissing. His arms gripped her tight, pulling him against his chest by her waist. She tried to swallow back moans of pleasure against his lips, her hands sifting through his thick dark hair. Heat flared through her, chasing away any lingering cold. Each greedy kiss pumped more and more warmth through her veins.

Suddenly her back was up against a wall, his hands roaming her sides while his lips and tongue worked against her throat. Her breath whisked out, puffing into the night air. Her hands reached for the lapels of the jacket he wasn’t wearing, and settled for gripping his belt to keep steady.

She didn’t know how much time passed in their dizzying makeout. She was riding the wave of his body against hers when realization seeped back in. She yanked her head back, eyes flaring wide. “What the _hell_ am I doing?” she gasped, entirely out of breath.

His lips latched back onto her throat. “Celebrating a job well done, love,” he purred against her skin.

She almost let go again, almost gave into the cravings she so desperately wanted to feed. “No, no, wait, stop,” she breathed. Killian pulled back, his hair just as dark and wild as his hungry eyes. “They’ll be here any second. I can’t…”

“Can’t be seen cavorting with a criminal?” he asked, voice rough. He sighed and let go of her waist, swiping his thumb against his bottom lip. He looked only half satisfied, not sated enough to flash her a smug grin.

She looked away, shoving her hands into the pockets of the jacket. “We can’t do this,” she said. “I could lose my job if I’m not careful.”

“Danger is half the fun, love,” he mused.

“ _Don’t_ pull that mysterious bad boy crap on me,” she growled. “I’m not some starry-eyed school girl drawn to the darkness of the artsy rebel.”

He just lifted a brow. “An oddly specific example,” he said.

A familiar feeling of annoyance crept into her. Once again she wanted to just slap him. Good. Irritation could beat out attraction. She was relieved when headlights lit up the parking lot. Without another word, she marched over and climbed into the passenger seat while Killian retrieved the painting and slipped into the back. Nobody said a word the entire ride back to the office.


	14. Chapter 14

Killian Jones was a man of theatrics, but even he had to stretch to fully embody his new role. It would take everything he had not to show his distaste for Peter Pan’s less than admirable enterprise. Smee had managed to rustle up information about a Lost Boys meeting in the seediest part of town. Killian was less than thrilled about the venue, but it was best to approach Pan where he couldn’t deny his business.

He watched from the shadows as members of the drug cartel dispersed from an old, dilapidated parking garage and went their separate ways. When Pan, the only one dressed in suit and tie, emerged and made for his car, Killian strode forward.

“You know, you really should add redundancies to your electrical systems,” he announced. Pan’s head snapped up and his bodyguard whipped out a gun. Killian didn’t react, just kept walking forward. “The backup generators were a nice touch, but if all your systems can be shut down in one central location, you’re asking for trouble.”

“You’re the thief who crashed my party,” Pan said, his eyes stormy but his voice even.

“Aye. They call me the Captain.” He spread his arms and bowed, smirking.

Pan looked amused though his bodyguard was anything but. “The _Captain_. I think I’m flattered, but a little confused. Is there any reason in particular you’re here confessing now or are you just that brash?”

“Your security is lacking, Mr. Pan,” Killian said, lifting his chin. “Thieves lesser than I could have just as easily slipped in and had their way with your art collection. You are in need of a serious upgrade.”

Pan laughed. “And are you suggesting that _you’re_ the one to provide that service, Captain? Forgive me if a thief who just robbed from me doesn’t fill me with the upmost confidence.”

Killian shrugged. “Figured you might say something like that. I’ve taken the liberty of putting the piece I took right back where I found it earlier tonight. You can go ahead and call, if you’d like, make sure I’m telling the truth.”

Pan narrowed his eyes before reaching into his pocket and whipping his phone to his ear. Killian grinned as the CEO called the night watchmen at the museum and waited. His smirk grew into a full-toothed smile when Pan’s eyes flicked back up at him as the watchmen verified his claim. He stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

“You’ve pointed out a flaw in my system, but I can afford any number of security consultants on the market. Especially after collecting the reward money for turning you in. No doubt the FBI will be happy to have you in custody.”

Killian sighed. “Certainly, you _could_ do that,” he suggested, “but if you contract with a consultant there will be a paper trail. Records. Which might work just fine for your charities and business ventures, but not your other…more lucrative endeavors.”

“Are you suggesting I’m involved in illegal activities, Captain?”

“No, I’m revealing that I _know_ you’re the leader of the Lost Boys,” Killian said, bold as could be. The bodyguard flinched, finger itching to squeeze the trigger.

“That’s a wild accusation,” Pan said, his voice neutral.

“I’d rather not waste time dancing around what we both know is true, Mr. Pan. How about we skip right to the part where we make a deal that’s mutually beneficial. You hire me on as a security consultant—I’ll improve any and every system you have me analyze—and in return I ask for a 5% cut of the Lost Boys’ profits on Pixie Dust.”

Pan laughed again, throwing his head back. “And how exactly does the Captain go from stealing art to being involved in the drug trade? That’s quite a leap.”

“Certainly. But I’m a man with broad horizons and _many_ interests, Mr. Pan. I’m unparalleled at what I do. You won’t find a better offer to protect your assets.”

They stared at each other. Killian knew this would be a waiting game. It wasn’t his goal to win Pan over right on the spot, just get the ball rolling. Between Emma’s FBI suspicion angle and his art thief security boost offer, Pan would have to do a _lot_ of thinking. He had to reach his own conclusions, make his own decisions for this to work.

“This has been an _interesting_ night, Captain,” he said after a while. “But I’m afraid you’re quite confused about my endeavors. I don’t involve myself in drug wars or illegal activities.”

“Mmm, right, because a well-to-do CEO just happens to find himself in an area notoriously known for Lost Boy activity in the middle of the night…” Killian mused.

A flash of irritation crossed Pan’s green eyes. “Since you returned my painting, I don’t see the need in pursuing legal action… _this_ time. But cross me again, Captain, and you will most definitely regret it.”

With that, Pan opened the door to his car and slid in. The bodyguard holstered his gun and got in the driver’s seat, eyes boring into Killian until they were cut off. The art thief stood there in the middle of the pockmarked alley, watching the expensive sports car drive off into the night. When it disappeared, he smirked to himself. Pan was hooked.


	15. Chapter 15

“This is the part where things get tricky,” Emma said, bracing herself at her desk. She and David were looking down at her phone, expressions drawn tight. “We really have to limit contact, which obviously makes coordination a bit difficult.”

“If Pan catches you anywhere near Emma, it’s game over,” David said, his arms crossed.

On the other end of the line, Killian sighed. “I truly detest this leg of the mission, if you’re wondering. I always so look forward to working intimately with Agent Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes, used to his antics by now. David tensed for only half a second before sighing and giving up. “We should move to burner phones. Communicate through Smee. We’re already working on setting up a secure email channel.”

“While Killian waits to hear back from Pan, I’m going to interview the orphanage. Hopefully I can get some intel on the phony adoption. If we’re lucky, Pan will be following me and he’ll get even more nervous,” Emma said, shrugging on her coat.

“You should take someone with you,” David said, eyeing her.

“It’s just an interview,” Emma replied, refusing to look at him. She could feel his chastising “dad-glare” boring into her, but this wasn’t the time to talk about it with Killian on the line.

“Why not Ms. Belle French? She seemed delighted to be getting involved with the case. I imagine she finds her front desk job dreadfully boring,” Killian suggested.

“Belle’s not a field agent,” Emma reminded him.

“Well it’s only an interview, as you noted,” he added. “But handle your affairs however you wish. I’m off to mingle with the underbelly of New York. Ta.”

Emma snorted when he hung up. David just closed his eyes for a second and breathed out. “I _really_ hate to say this…but he’s right. You should take Belle.”

“David, I’ll be _fine_ ,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“It’s your call,” he said, starting towards his office. “Just…keep me posted, all right?”

“Sure thing, _Dad_ ,” she muttered.

“You realize I _am_ your boss now, right?” he teased.

“Only in the paperwork, Nolan,” she said over her shoulder, whisking towards the elevators.

Emma strode through the lobby, ready to drive upstate to the orphanage. She hesitated as she passed the reception desk. Belle was typing away, sending emails like it was second nature. She knew Belle was being underutilized—the girl was an ace researcher and always thinking—but wasn’t exactly keen on bringing in someone on this particular assignment. Still…Belle was her friend. And if she was totally honest, alone might not be the best approach.

“Hey, Belle, got a second?” she found herself asking.

The secretary looked up and smiled. “What’s up?”

“Interested in a little field trip? Up to the orphanage where the kid disappeared?”

Belle looked stunned. “Uh, me?”

“Yeah. I could use another pair of eyes and ears,” she said, leaning against the semi-circle desk.

“But why not another agent? Surely there’s someone more qualified…”

“You really want to keep forwarding calls and scheduling stuff?” Emma asked.

“Well…it _is_ my job,” Belle muttered.

“You could ask for a promotion, you know. We could always use more intelligence analysts.”

“I’d love to, Emma, but…I can’t just leave the desk,” she said, motioning towards her workspace.

Emma shrugged. “Just put Happy on it. Not like he’s up to anything useful.”

Belle bit her lip for a second before reaching over to the phone and dialing up Agent Happy. Emma smirked as Belle slipped into her coat, looking more excited than Emma had ever seen her. The secretary came around the desk and hurried to Emma’s side. Together the two headed out to grab a taxi.


	16. Chapter 16

The Wishing Star Orphanage looked downright cozy from the outside, but Emma wasn’t fooled by the storybook appearance. She and Belle walked up to the door—decorated with construction paper snowmen with sloppily written names on them—and rang the bell.

There was a commotion inside; Emma heard the patter of dozens of tiny feet. Some kid pressed their face up against the frosted glass on the side of the door and said something over their shoulder to the other collected children. When the lock was flipped, Emma straightened.

An old, kindly man greeted them. “Can I help you, ladies?” he asked. Kids craned their necks to get a look at the two visitors.

“I called earlier,” Emma said, avoiding their curious eyes. “Emma Swan.”

The old man’s eyes went dark, but he kept a forced smile on his lips for the sake of the kids clamoring around him. “Yes, yes, come in, Ms. Swan. The children were just going off to crafts, weren’t you?”

Hesitantly, the kids dispersed into the large house. “We can talk in the dining room,” the man said, his voice now lowered. He shuffled down the hall, guiding them into the belly of the house. Emma couldn’t help but look around. The place was practically wallpapered with pictures and crafts. In the distance, some upbeat music began to play.

The dining room was spotless. Emma had no doubt this is where potential parents sat down with potential adoptees. “If one of you could grab the doors,” the man said, sitting down in a chair. Belle did as he asked and sat next to Emma across from the man.

“Do you have news about poor Lily?” he asked, old eyes hopeful and fearful at the same time.

“We’re chasing down a lead, Mr. Booth,” Emma said. “And we could really use your help.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” the man said. “And please, call me Marco.”

“Marco. Was there anything that seemed odd about the couple adopting Lily? Anything that stood out or rubbed you the wrong way?” Emma asked. Beside her, Belle took out a notepad and a pencil, ready to jot everything down.

Marco shook his head. “They seemed perfectly normal. Lily took a shining to them straight away. She was so excited…” He trailed off, putting his face in his hands.

Emma stirred in her seat. Belle noticed her unease but said nothing. “How about in their paperwork?” Belle asked. “Any anomalies? Any sort of red flags?”

Marco sighed and shook his head, trying to compose himself again. “No. No they were perfect. Almost too perfect, now that I think about it. A school teacher and a dentist, unable to have a child of their own.”

“Like their story was tailor-made for Lily?” Emma prompted.

Marco sat back and thought for a moment. He frowned. “Yes. I remember…the woman wore a scarf during one of the meetings, decorated with constellations. Lily loves the stars. We got her those glow-in-the-dark space stickers one year for Christmas…it was like giving her the world…”

A little smile quirked up on Emma’s lips despite herself. She reached across the table and took Marco’s gnarled hand. The man gave her a shaky smile. “These children mean _everything_ to me…I can’t bear to think…”

“We’ll find her, Marco,” Emma insisted. “And we’ll shut down Children of Neverland so nothing can happen to these kids again. I promise.”

Marco sighed and sat back, swiping away some tears. “My wife and I were never able to have a child of our own…it was a miracle when August came into our lives…he brought such joy to us. All I wanted to do was given children like August a chance, and families like mine the ability to connect.”

Emma felt her chest constrict. But Belle interrupted before she fell too far down that memory lane. “Hold on, August? As in August Booth?”

“Yes, my son. He’s grown up to be a fine young man. A reporter. Have you read his articles?” Marco was practically beaming now. 

“And then some,” Emma mused. “He helped me with a case a while back.”

Marco’s eyes lit up again. “With the Crocodile man. I remember…I didn’t realize you were _that_ Emma.”

Emma stood, adjusting her jacket. “Thank you for your time, Marco. Don’t hesitate to contact us if you remember anything else about the couple who adopted Lily.” Marco nodded.

“Of course…and if…if you find Lily. Will you tell her that we love her? That we miss her?” She swallowed but nodded.

Marco followed them to the front door. Children poked their heads around the corners, curiosity thick in their eyes.

Emma recognized the half-hidden looks of disappointment, of hope… She said a final goodbye to Marco after giving him her cell number, and whisked out of the Wishing Star Orphanage.

She bundled her coat up against the cold, sighing out a huge breath that curled into the air. She jumped a little when Belle rested her hand on her shoulder. “You ok?”

Emma nodded. “Just _really_ want to slam Pan behind bars,” she said. “Come on. We know they pre-select which kids they want and tailor-make their parents for them…let’s find out how.”


	17. Chapter 17

Hours later she was sitting at her desk poring over file after file of each and every kid adopted through Children of Neverland. At least a third of them appeared to be legitimate adoptions. She stared at the Mayor’s file for a long time.

When her phone rang, she was quick to answer, eager for a reprieve from the tedious work. She didn’t recognize the number. “Swan,” she said.

“Agent Jones, reporting in.”

Emma rolled her eyes, sitting back in her office chair and running her hand through her hair. “You wish,” she muttered.

“Ah, it seems you’re in a mood,” he replied. “Well it’s a good thing I have pleasant news for you, then.”

“What is it? Did Pan take the bait?”

He chuckled on the other end of the line, no doubt pleased that she went from annoyed to excited in about two seconds flat. “Aye, that he did. He’s contracted me to test and redesign security at several of his New York storages. No word yet on if they contain Pixie Dust or other nefarious goods; I start tomorrow.”

“Not a lot of time to prep then,” Emma said, biting her lip in thought. She glanced at her desk calendar. Tomorrow was Saturday. Couldn’t bad guys ever take a weekend off?

“No, not much at all. But then again, I’m quite adept at performing under pressure.” And there was the typical flirty response. It was almost comforting to Emma right then. At the very least it made her roll her eyes and smile a little. She sighed.

“Right, well, just don’t let your big mouth get you killed. I’d hate to have to go out and find another art thief to replace you,” she said.

He scoffed playfully. “I’ll do my best to spare you that trouble. Agent Jones, over and out.”

 

The office was mostly empty on an early Saturday morning. Emma didn’t know where else to do. There wasn’t much to be done on her end that day, but she couldn’t just sit around while Killian was beginning his fake partnership. She paced around the cubicles, meticulously rearranged all her desk supplies, went over every file she had on Children of Neverland, Panpipe Entertainment, and Peter Pan at least three times, and still found time to worry.

A low whistle made her look up from an article about Pan’s latest charitable donation to underfunded arts programs around the country. David walked forward with two cups of coffee and a paper bag of something. “Well _you’re_ certainly wound up.”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him but took the outstretched coffee. “Yeah? How can you tell?” she grumbled.

“For starters your shirt’s inside out.”

Emma looked down and David started to laugh. “If you say _made you look_ …” she started.

“Ok, I won’t…but I’ll think it.” David put the bag on her desk before leaning against the wall. “I know that you’re gonna go full-tilt on this one, so Mary Margaret made me promise I’d mother hen you. Make sure you eat and sleep.”

“Thanks, _Dad_ ,” she muttered, grabbing the bag and peeking inside. Her grumpiness was chased away by the heavenly smell of the greasy onion rings. She instantly popped one into her mouth. “Caffeine and onion rings, yeah you’re quite the mother hen.”

He shrugged. “Gotta make sure my hatchlings are happy. How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Emma said, half-eaten ring in one hand while the other spread out some papers. “I’m still pushing the embezzlement front a little, just to assure Pan that going to the Captain was a smart move. Belle’s working the adoption side of things, trying to figure out how Pan’s picking the kids and why. And I just sent Scarlet a message asking him to gain intel on the latest Pixie Dust rumors and movements.”

“Good, but I meant how’s it going with _you_ , Emma?”

Emma blinked and looked up at him. “What? Fine, I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe her for a second. “When you say _fine_ , you never actually are.” She started to protest but he continued. “You and I have been partners for _years_ , Em. I may not have your lie detecting super power, but I do know when _you’re_ lying.”

“It’s a stressful case, that’s all,” Emma admitted, looking back down and throwing another onion ring into her mouth.

“It’s a personal one, too,” David replied. Emma tensed. “I know this one’s hard for you, on multiple fronts. I just don’t want you to run yourself into the ground, ok?

“I won’t,” she said.

“Damn right you won’t, because I’m not gonna let you,” he said. “Even if I have to sic Mary Margaret on you and make you rivers of cinnamon hot chocolate myself.”

Emma conceded a smile. “Thanks.”

David nodded. “Now, as much as I _totally_ trust Will Scarlet, I think I’ll take a peek at Pixie Dust movements myself. I’ve got some contacts in the DEA that can help.”

Emma nodded as David scooped the drug file off her desk. He whisked back to his office, leaving Emma to her task. She could still hear his voice through his open office door and found it a little comforting.


	18. Chapter 18

David was right. She couldn’t afford to run herself into the ground. Having radio silence from Killian was driving her insane, not that she could do much about it. There wasn’t a ton to do until he got back to them with damning evidence, so she needed to keep her head until then.

Emma walked down the sterile hospital hallway, coffee and book in hand, and stepped into Liam’s room. As always, he was sleeping. The heart monitor pulsed quietly. She observed him for a few moments, wondering what the man was like. Was he the complete opposite of his flirtatious brother? Was he the same? What had they been like as kids? Would Liam approve of the great lengths Killian had gone to for his brother’s sake?

She sighed and sat in her regular spot, the chair by the window, and tucked one leg up on the other while she cracked open her book. Her eyes scanned the words but didn’t register them. She was thinking too much. Her brain refused to shut off and just read. After a few minutes she gave up and looked at Liam again. The comatose man with curly brown hair was a complete stranger to her, and yet she found herself drawn to the hospital every week.

Liam’s doctor had told her that many coma patients could hear and sense what was going on around them. He’d even encouraged her to talk to him, but she never knew what to say. And bringing Liam news about his criminal brother’s involvement with the drug trade didn’t exactly seem like a great introduction.

So she kept quiet and went back to her book. She even managed to get a few chapters in before someone opened the door to Liam’s room.

“ _Killian_?”

He seemed as surprised as she was. He had a small vase of flowers in hand, taking away from his normal bad boy criminal vibe.

“Emma? What are you doing here?”

She glanced back at Liam, mouth half-open. She shook herself. “I come here every Sunday,” she admitted. “Just, you know, to check in.”

Killian recovered a little from the initial shock and walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He set the vase down on Liam’s nightstand. “Smee told me as much,” he said, stepping back from the bedside. His eyes were locked on his brother. “I just didn’t think…with the case and all…”

“Guess it’s kind of routine now,” she said.

A few beats of silence passed between them. “I cannot begin to thank you enough for looking after him, Emma,” Killian said. “I knew he’d be safer under federal care but…I’ll confess it’s been difficult having him so far away, where I can’t visit.”

Emma could see the pain on the art thief’s face, but also the adoration in his gaze. Killian’s love for his brother drove him into becoming the Captain, into taking on the most dangerous man in New York, and now into infiltrating Peter Pan’s inner-circle…

“It’s the least I could do,” she said.

“Do you read to him?” Killian asked.

“What?” He nodded towards the book in her hand. “Oh, uh, no, I just kind of sit here for an hour.”

“You should read to him. He loves books.” Killian reached into the bag he carried in and pulled out a book of his own. _Treasure Island_. “An old favorite,” Killian said. “Our mother used to read it to us as lads. I figured…one last read-through before I go undercover for a while.”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Emma said, offering a smile. She stood up, gathering her things.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Killian said quickly. She paused. “I’m sure Liam enjoys your company, Emma. I know I do.”

She waited for the mischievous flicker in his eye, the annoyingly attractive smirk of his lips, but it didn’t come.

“It’s not smart for us to be in the same place,” she said after a moment.

“That hasn’t stopped us before,” he pointed out.

She glanced back at Liam then down at her watch. “Well,” she said, “my hour isn’t up yet.” To Killian’s obvious delight, she sat back down in her chair. He leaned against the window sill and cracked open the worn book.

“I remember him as if it were yesterday,” Killian started, his lilting voice already sucking her into the story, “as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards: _Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum_!"

Emma couldn’t help a small laugh at Killian’s gruff singing. He kept reading, though his lips quirked up. Emma stayed in the hospital well beyond her hour. His voice was soothing to listen to, smooth, deep, and accented. He gave different voices to different characters, almost acting it out as a parent would to their child. While he read, she studied his profile, watching the way his lips moved over each word, watching his storm blue eyes scan the lines, watching his fingers flip the pages. She listened to the story of Jim Hawkins and the pirate Long John Silver, their antics on Treasure Island, their swashbuckling fights, and high seas adventures.

It was like waking up from a dream when he finished. She blinked and suddenly she was back in the hospital. She was FBI Agent Emma Swan again, sitting next to the art thief Killian Jones. It was almost a little sad, if she was honest with herself. She could’ve listened to him read for hours more. Instead, she wouldn’t see him again for who knows how long.

“I ought to get going, Pan’s expecting me,” he said, leaving the book on the table next to the flowers. He clasped Liam’s wrist for a moment of brotherly solidarity before standing. She stood as well. “Thank you, Emma,” he said. She was paralyzed as he leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

With that, he whisked out of the room, leaving her stunned. Without really thinking, she pressed her fingers against her cheek, feeling the residual warmth of his lips. She sighed after a moment or two, gathering her things.

“Your brother is… _something_ ,” she muttered while she shrugged on her coat.


	19. Chapter 19

For an entire week, Emma heard nothing from Killian. It was beyond frustrating, not to mention worrying. There was basically no way to tell if he’d been discovered or was just doing his job. Her only assurances came from Smee, who would, every other day, tell her that he saw the art thief out and about.

Pan was a thorough man, and after the mistakes they made with underestimating the Crocodile’s resources, Emma and Killian weren’t going to risk any sort of direct communication. But with Killian now on Pan’s illicit payroll, she could turn her attention away from keeping up the phony embezzlement case and towards Pixie Dust movement. Will Scarlet was her eyes on the street and her ears on the ground, providing relatively reliable information, for a price, of course.

On the following Sunday she went to visit Liam again. Her tensions were through the roof, but she thought that maybe an hour’s worth of reading would ease them a little. Give her a breather. Once she was settled in her chair she cleared her throat, cracked open a worn library copy of _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ , and began.

“The year 1866 was marked by a bizarre development, an unexplained and downright inexplicable phenomenon that surely no one has forgotten. Without getting into those rumors that upset civilians in the seaports and deranged the public mind even far inland, it must be said that professional seamen were especially alarmed. Traders, ship-owners, captains of vessels, skippers, and master mariners from Europe and America, naval officers from every country, and at their heels the various national governments on these two continents, were all extremely disturbed by the business. In essence, over a period of time several ships had encountered "an enormous thing" at sea, a long spindle–shaped object, sometimes giving off a phosphorescent glow, infinitely bigger and faster than any whale.”

She didn’t think her voice carried the same dramatic quality as Killian’s, but it wasn’t like Liam could really judge her on her showmanship. She kept reading, page after page, not even knowing if the man could hear her or not. Not knowing if this was a book he’d read a million times or never picked up. Not knowing if she’d signed his brother’s death warrant by involving him with this damned case.

Halfway through the fourth chapter something in her pocket started buzzing. She reached automatically for her cell, but realized with a cold wash of shock that it was the burner phone. She tossed the book aside and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Killian?”

“Swan.” Just by the way he said her name she knew something was wrong. He was serious. Killian Jones was rarely serious with her. If ever.

“What is it? Were you compromised?” she asked, feeling her heart pick up speed.

“Quite the opposite. Pan’s been thrilled with my work on his security here in New York. He wants to…send me on a field trip of sorts. Down to South America. To ensure his assets abroad are…properly protected.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s putting you on the Pixie Dust trade?”

“More specifically, on the Pixie Dust _farm_ …” She could hear the tension in his voice, the distaste. He didn’t have to say what they both were thinking. “You must really have him spooked, Agent Swan. I doubt he’d otherwise trust such a task to a new partner.”

“When are you leaving? Wh-what did he _tell_ you? Did he say anything about the kids? Children of Neverland?” she asked, scrambling to find a pen and paper.

“Easy, Swan. I don’t know much yet… But I’m catching a flight tonight.”

“ _Tonight_? Shit…” She had to get back to the office _now_. “Ok, well, we need to get you some gear before you go. Recording devices, bugs, trackers…Not to mention contact South American agencies…” She ran a hand through her hair.

“You know I can’t come in…” he started.

“No, I know…” Her mind was racing through logistics. She pinned her phone to her ear and jumped into her coat, not bothering to button it up. “I should probably just have Smee run the things to you… Tell him to meet me at the Castle Motel, room 8. It’s an FBI safe room.”

“Will do, Swan.”

She hesitated in the doorway, casting a glance back at Liam. “Do you…do you want to say goodbye to your brother?”

“You’re at the hospital?”

“Yeah, it’s Sunday,” she said, reaching for a joke. The tension was only going to get higher and higher now that they were down to the wire.

“Right, your hour,” he said, a small laugh in his voice. “Yes, love, just a quick word with Liam…”

Emma walked over. “Here.” She held the phone up to Liam’s ear. She heard the low murmur of Killian’s voice but couldn’t decipher what he was saying. A few moments later she lifted it back up.

“Thank you, Emma.”

“I’ll be at the motel in about an hour,” she said. “Make sure Smee isn’t late.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning

Emma sat on the motel bed, staring at her feet. She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, glancing for the fifth time that minute at her watch. Where the hell was Smee? Emma glanced at the paper bag filled with FBI gear sitting next to her, rifling through it for the umpteenth time, making sure that everything was in place.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when three loud knocks sounded. She hurried over to the door and stood on her toes to peer out the peephole. She swore, pulled open the door, fisted Killian’s jacket collar, and yanked him into the room before flipping the lock home.

“Are you _insane_?!” she hissed.

He glanced down and smoothed out his shirt. “I’ve been told that before, yes,” he mused.

“What were you….what were you _thinking_?”

His eyes flicked up towards hers, a tiny smirk curling up at the corner of his lips. “I was thinking that I wanted to see you one last time,” he said, his voice low and rolling. He closed the distance between them, every motion easy and deliberate. Her jaw clenched. He sighed. “Also Smee was indisposed. Apparently he had some bad Chinese…” Killian shook his head and waved the rest of the thought away with his hand. “The point is, I ensured I wasn’t followed.”

Emma let a breath out through her teeth, shoving past him to grab the plastic bag of supplies. “When’s your flight?”

“In five hours,” he said. “Taking off from a private airport.”

Emma closed her eyes for a second, thinking hard about the logistics of everything. “David made contact with the agency down there. They aren’t exactly excited about some Americans butting into their case, but have agreed to work with us. You get solid evidence on the children harvesting the Pixie Dust plants and connect it directly to Pan, and we’ll throw his sorry ass in prison for life.”

She heard him moving behind her, felt his nearness and warmth. She picked up one of the bugs and held it up, focusing on it instead of the art thief. “This will record and send data straight to a receiver, so even if they find it we’ll have the evidence. But any video recording you do will…” She was cut off when he took the bug from her grasp and tossed it onto the bed. He gently spun her around to face him, his hands resting on the sides of her arms.

“This won’t just be dangerous for me, Swan,” he said. “You’ve made yourself a target too.”

Emma shook her head, trying to collect her thoughts. “He thinks I’m just working a simple embezzlement investigation. I’m small fish compared to what you’re gonna be. If he catches you…”

He brought his head in closer, eyes sincere. “He won’t. You came to me for a reason, love…” His smirk blossomed into something cocky. “I’m the best at what I do. You’ll have your evidence, and you’ll have your prize.”

She forced herself not to look at his lips, not to notice the warmth of his hands, not to acknowledge how fast her heart was beating. He reached up and trailed his fingers lightly though the ends of her hair, tucking it back behind her shoulder.

“My sweet Agent Swan,” he hummed, “to think…all of this started with you chasing me down. Funny how things change, hmm?” She made a few unintelligible sounds as a response, causing him to chuckle deep in his throat. His eyes scanned over every contour of her face, the lines of her jaw, the rise and fall of her throat. “I don’t suppose I can have a good luck kiss, now, can I?”

His lilted voice nearly made her shiver. Her mind was swirling with too much worry to be fully annoyed or fully rational. “Is now _really_ the best time?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Oh trust me, love, there’s never a wrong time with you.”

She blinked, stunned by how _calm_ he was. He was back to making flirty eyes and sultry advances like before, apparently not worried at all about flying to a foreign country where an evil criminal mastermind was forcing children into harvesting drugs… How could Killian be so calm? So frustratingly—

His hand brushed her hip as he leaned forward, his lips skimming so lightly over hers. _One_ kiss, she told herself. Only one, just to shut him up. Otherwise he’d probably pout and get more annoying… But one turned to two, two turned to three, and before she knew it her arms were hooked behind his neck and his tongue was exploring her mouth.

One of his hands cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, the other landed in the small of her back, holding her close. A jolt of pleasure raced through her when he moaned against her lips. She gasped when his lips trailed down to her throat. His teeth nipped her flushed skin and soothed it over with his tongue. She gripped his hair tight when he gave her ass a small squeeze.

He pinned her against the wall, his lips never detaching from the hollow of her throat. His hands worked at the button of her jeans while she pushed off his jacket and scrambled at his shirt. Her breaths were coming in shallow gasps now, heart racing, skin thrumming. Everywhere he touched flared with heat, and she wanted more.

She stepped out of her jeans and kicked them aside just as he was unbuckling his belt. They paused in their disrobing every few seconds, too hungry for each other to wait long enough. Her shirt hung open, revealing her lacy bra, though she was bare from the bottom down. He placed kisses along her jaw line, breath warm against her ear. She swallowed a yelp when his hands found her wet folds. “Mmm, what have we here?”

She couldn’t think of a witty retort in time as his thumb began to massage her sensitive bud. Emma strained, craving more of his touch. His other hand skimmed over her ribs so lightly goosebumps appeared in the wake of his fingers. She braced her hands against his chest, feeling the hard muscles there beneath his warm skin.

She groaned as one digit slipped inside, stroking, teasing, curling. Her hands grasped at his shoulders, desperate to hold something, to steady herself. He pressed himself even closer, his teeth grazing her ear. Emma _needed_ him. Right then. _Now_.

She placed her hands on either side of his jaw and pulled him into a rough kiss, hooking one of her legs up on his hip. Killian replied in kind, hoisting her up till her legs wound around his waist. He pushed her up against the wall, lavishing her breasts in kisses while guiding himself towards her entrance.

They both shuddered and moaned as he slipped into her. Emma’s fingers snaked through his feathery black hair, her head leaning back against the wall. He whispered her name over and over again, sighing out sweet nothings against her skin. “ _My lovely Swan_.”

His hips pushed into hers, eliciting gasps and groans with every thrust. She captured his lips with hers again, tasting him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. After a few minutes he carried her to the bed. She sprawled beneath him, her tangled hair thrown over the spread. For just a moment, he took all of her in, drinking up her bare body with a look of hungry awe. They shed the rest of their clothing before tangling together again.

She pushed his shoulders down into the mattress and swung her leg over his hips, settling herself down. He swore when she started rocking her hips, his eyes rolling back as he swallowed. She relished the way she made him squirm and gasp. His fingertips dug into the soft skin of her thighs as she rode him. Emma pushed her hair back, biting down on her lip as pleasure coursed through her veins. He reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs swiping over her nipples.

A flash of dark desire flared through Killian’s eyes. He grabbed her by the waist and flipped them over, his body covering hers. He wrapped his lips around one nipple, teasing it with his daring tongue. Emma grasped at the skin of shoulder blades with her nails as he pushed himself back inside her. His hips moved faster, harder. Every so often a grunt would slip out of his lips and fall onto her skin. She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his jaw, his throat, anywhere she could reach.

Heat coiled at her core, building hotter and hotter. He drove her into a wild-eyed, shivering mess of desire. He was close too, his growls and gasps becoming more frequent as his breath faltered. “The… _things_ you do to me, love,” he panted. “So close…”

“Me too,” she whispered. “ _Fuck_. I need it…inside me… _please_.”

“Ladies first,” he growled, nipping her throat again. Emma bucked against him as his thumb started circling on her swollen clit again. It wasn’t long before she came undone, writhing beneath him as carnal electricity coursed through her. She cried out his name, begging him for more, giving herself over to the most primal of desires and pleasures.

Her sounds and spasms were enough to drive him over the edge. Killian spilled out inside of her, her hair balled up in his fists, her name falling from his lips again and again. For a few breathless moments, she could feel his heart hammering against hers, his breath against her cheek. Emma swallowed, coming back to her senses after such a mind-numbing high.

“What…what time is it?” she gasped. He rolled off of her as she reached over to turn the motel’s alarm clock around. As she stretched, he placed soft kisses along her spine, his fingers drawing meaningless circles against her thighs. She fell back against the bed, catching her breath as she stared at the ceiling. He propped himself up with one elbow, watching her every small movement. Emma dared glanced over at him. He wordlessly picked up her hand and placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

“That,” he said, his voice husky, “was one _hell_ of a good luck kiss.”

She almost snorted, blushing and smiling. He had a smile of his own when she looked back at him. Emma almost reached out to cup his cheek when she stopped herself.

What was she doing?

This wasn’t smart. None of it was. Yet, once again, she found herself in bed with the art thief. Once again she found herself wishing he could be…that _she_ could be… Emma sighed, looking away. He reached forward and brushed his thumb over her lips.

“You know, I was right,” he said.

She quirked a brow. “About what?”

“I said before that I couldn’t imagine you at full flight, without your wings clipped. I was right.” He leaned closer. “Were the circumstances better, and were you and I to do this over and over again…I’d be amazed each and every time.”

Emma flushed, mouth agape but soundless. She had to shake herself in order to think straight. She had to closer her eyes to even focus. Something about his storm blue eyes, scruff, and sex-hair were too distracting. “But circumstances _aren’t_ better,” she said.

“No…I suppose they aren’t.” He sounded disappointed, but placed a kiss on her shoulder before sitting up. Emma dragged herself up against the headboard, dragging the sheets to cover herself. She indulged herself a few moments, just watching him collect his clothes and slip back into them. She watched how the muscles of his back shifted, how the late afternoon light threw parts of him in shadow and the rest in a glow…

He caught her staring, offering her a devilish smirk. She rolled her eyes and got dressed herself, feeling dread settle over with each button fastened. He was absently brushing his hair back into place with his fingers when she was finished. The bag of gear had been kicked from the bed early on. Emma scooped it up and handed it to him. She was certain he made their fingers brush on purpose.

“I’m, uh, sure I don’t have to tell you to be careful,” she said, unable to look him in the eye.

“Still not wanting to look for another, less handsome, less talented thief, Agent Swan?” he teased.

“That and there’d be a lot of paperwork involved if you…” She couldn’t say it, not even with a joke.

He caught her chin in his fingers and made her look up. “I’m a survivor, Emma,” he said, his eyes endearing. “I can adapt to whatever Pan sends my way. Trust me.”

“ _Trust_ an art thief?” she asked, quirking a brow.

He laughed. “Trust that I’ll make it through anything when such enticing treasures await me back here,” he purred. He kissed her again, his arms winding around her waist and pulling her close. She would have lost herself again if he hadn’t been the one to pull back.

“I ought to get going. I doubt Pan would accept my tardiness even if I told him I was entertaining a beautiful woman.” His fingers played with the ends of her hair. “Now, don’t get too bored without me here, love.” He winked, causing Emma to scoff.

“ _Right_ ,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh you _know_ things are more interesting when I’m in town,” he teased.

“Keep talking like that and those enticing treasures will be a lot harder to find, Jones,” she challenged, crossing her arms. He looked amused and dipped his head in play-defeat. Then all the playfulness evaporated and they were left with the unsaid worry.

“Stay safe…”         

“As you wish, Emma.” Killian leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds. With that, he grabbed the gear bag, opened the door, and slipped out, leaving Emma to stare at the door and overthink things the moment he disappeared.


	21. Chapter 21

“ _Vacation days_?”

Emma tried not to squirm beneath the glare David was giving her. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes boring into her like the dutiful big brother. She stood her ground.

“I’ve got them saved up,” she said.

David pinched the bridge of his nose and started pacing behind his desk. “Let me get this straight…you’re going to use vacation days…to trick Peter Pan into thinking you’re halfway across the country when you’re _really_ going to South America?”

Emma sighed. “I’m not leaving Killian in the heart of Lost Boys territory without any backup. As far as Pan knows, I’m just looking into that embezzlement case. But if I shut that case down, he has _no reason_ to think I can link him to Pixie Dust. I’ll set up some fake vacation plan for me, just in case he looks into it, before booking it down to South America.”

David shook his head. “If he catches even a _glimpse_ of you anywhere on that continent he will have you killed. It’s too risky, Emma.”

Emma went rigid. “Fine, then I’ll actually use my vacation days up and just so _happen_ to choose the Amazon as my destination.”

He set his jaw. “I’m going with you, then.”

“I need you here,” Emma said, “to keep an eye on Pan. He’s not going to risk ever setting foot on the Pixie Dust farm, but that doesn’t mean he can’t pull strings from New York. You’ve gotta handle things on this end. I need someone I can trust.”

David stopped pacing. “And who are _you_ going to trust down there?” Emma sucked a breath in, ready to argue, but David’s whole frame softened. “You are marching _straight_ into the lion’s den, Emma. Even if there’s a joint investigation between our government and theirs, this is an international issue now. There’s a lot riding on this case.”

“I’m not in it alone,” she reminded him. “Killian’s down there.”

“Killian’s still a thief,” he reminded her. “You might vouch for him, but I’m not 100% sold. But he’s not the only one down there.” Emma tilted her head, confused. “My friends at the DEA told me that they have an undercover agent embedded in the Lost Boys down there. They wouldn’t give me a lot of information over the phone. It’s been an operation three years in the making. But she knows about Killian’s involvement and knows about you. If things go south, you can count on her.”

“But who is she? What does she look like?” Emma asked.

David sighed again. “I’m meeting with my DEA buddy tomorrow. He’ll give me more details in person. Meanwhile, if you’re going to go through with this stupidly risky plan, you need to let Pan know the embezzlement case is settled and set up a fake paper trail.”

Emma nodded. “Ruby always did want to take me on a roadtrip to some musical festival or another, I’ll have her make phony social media posts about us being together. And I’ll head over to the Panpipe Tower this afternoon to meet with Pan.”

“I want constant updates, you hear me?” David said. “Constant.”

“You’re the boss,” Emma said, ducking out of his office.

 

Emma would have thought reentering Panpipe Tower and staring down the man would have been easier the second time, instead it was twice as intimidating. She had so much more to lose now. Killian was already down in the Amazon, Tina Green was feeding them information as often as she could, and Will Scarlet had reported increased shipments of Pixie Dust circulating the streets. If it all fell apart now, everything they worked for would mean nothing.

“Agent Swan, so nice to see you again,” Peter said as she walked out of the elevator on floor 77. He was sifting through some letters as he sat on his executive desk.

“Mr. Pan, I have good news,” she said, forcing a professional smile as she walked towards the entertainment mogul.

His brows rose in surprise. “Do you?”

She nodded and paused in front of him. “We’ve found no evidence of any sort of embezzlement from your Children of Neverland charity. I’m shutting the investigation down.”

Pan slipped off his desk and approached her, hands tucked behind his back. “That _is_ good news,” he said. Emma tried to hide her disgust when he smiled. “Though not to your client, I suppose.”

“I’m not interested in whether or not shutting down the case makes them happy. I’m only interested in the facts, and what I’ve found shows you to be innocent of those charges.” Each word was like vinegar on her tongue. “I hope we haven’t taken up too much of your time with all this, Mr. Pan.”

“Call me Peter, please,” he said. “And I’m always happy to oblige the law in any way I can. It’s not always pleasant, but being cooperative makes it easier on both of us.”

“It does,” Emma agreed.

“I imagine this was a rather boring case for you, Agent Swan. Especially on the heels of your Crocodile caper. Looking forward to more exciting assignments?” he asked.

“Looking forward to a vacation, actually,” she said, slipping into a more casual stance. “My friend and I are going to a music festival in Chicago. We’re making a roadtrip out of it.”

“Are you now? What’s the name of the festival?”

Emma wasn’t prepared for a personal interrogation, but this wasn’t the first time she’d been put on the spot. She just shrugged. “I don’t remember, she booked the tickets. I’m just along for the ride really. Just excited to get out of the office for a few days.”

“Ah, well have fun with your friend. You certainly have earned a break,” he said. If Emma didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he meant it.

“I’ll let you get back to work, Mr. Pan, and not take up any more of your time.”

“Have a wonderful afternoon, Agent Swan.”


	22. Chapter 22

A trickle of sweat rolled down his neck, seeping into the already soaked fabric of his shirt. This oppressive, muggy heat was far from comfortable, but Killian Jones had bigger things to worry about. The thick jungles of South America, teeming with mosquitos and odd noises, were treacherous to navigate without guides. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, his escorts through the wet forests knew the area like the backs of their hands.

He’d left behind comfort, luxuries, and any form of manners back in New York. Here, the men were rough and callous, and none too friendly. Killian mostly kept to himself during the tours of the Pixie Dust facilities. They’d visited the warehouse in the city and amped up its security, but now he was at the farm itself.

It didn’t look like much, just a collection of shabby huts and buildings, a massive field where the plants grew, and a dock with three river boats tied up to it on the river. He mentally mapped out the area as best he could, but there would be little hope of ever making his way back to the city without a guide. He grit his teeth as he weighed his options. He was always a man with an escape route, but he didn’t fancy trekking through the jungle with Lost Boys nipping at his heels.

And besides, his wasn’t the only safety he had to consider. Nearly thirty-five children were at the farm, currently anyway, Killian had learned that there were near fifty in total, but the others were out “on assignment” carrying illicit drugs over the borders as unwilling covers. A young face could fool even the most meticulous of border agents.

The kids didn’t harvest the plants, as they previously thought, but did aid in the process of hanging them to dry in the sun and grinding them into powder. The sight made Killian sick to his stomach, though he had to swallow down any distaste for the time being. He couldn’t afford to slip up now. This had always been a heavy case, but seeing the children…knowing the full depravity of Peter Pan…it was different.

At night, the Lost Boys would gather around a campfire and gripe about the day, share lewd stories, and partake in some of their supply—just to ensure the batch was good. The kids, however, would huddle together as far away as they could, scarfing down their meals as though the Lost Boys might steal their food. Killian kept to his cramped room in one of the huts most days, but on the fourth night in the jungle, he moved through the camp towards the huddle of children.

They stiffened as he approached, their conversation hushing. The fear and paranoia in their eyes, the instant hate, was exactly the reason he sat down in the dirt next to them with his bowl of stew. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, flashing a smile. Their eyes narrowed. Their looks were so haunted, so _hopeless_. Older children—none could’ve been over twelve—comforted the smaller ones.

“What do _you_ want?” one growled, his hair a dusty mess.

Killian glanced over his shoulder at the Lost Boys and leaned in, as though telling a secret. “Between you and me, I think those guys are rather dull. Not to mention annoying. I imagine you lot are _much_ better company.”

They didn’t trust him, but some were curious. Nobody talked to them like this. Nobody cared. These were orphans, he had to remind himself. Children stolen away, thinking they were being accepted into a home, only to wind up here in this hellish place.

“You’re new here,” a girl said. “Heard you talking about _security_.”

Killian nodded as he ate a spoonful of stew, trying to act as relaxed as he could. “That’s right. Sharp ears you’ve got, lass.”

“Who needs security out here?” a boy snapped. “There’s nothing but trees and river and bugs. And they’ve all got guns…”

“Never can be too careful,” Killian said. “Security’s about a lot more than just locks and guns and cameras…sometimes it’s about trusting the right people, having them in the right place at the right time.”

“Oi, Jones, what’re you doing?” The children flinched and looked down at their bowls as one Lost Boy approached. Killian didn’t bother getting up, just threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Just getting to know the staff, mate,” Killian said, practically through his teeth.

The Lost Boy leader, Felix, hiked a thumb over his shoulder, glaring at Killian as he retreated a few steps into the camp. Killian rolled his eyes. “Busted,” he whispered to the kids. He heard a few muffled giggles. “Hold this for me, won’t you, lad? Be back in a tick.” He held his bowl out to a surprised kid and got up, following Felix. A chorus of hushed whispers rose up behind him.

“You’re here to assess our security, not make little friends,” Felix hissed.

Killian let himself harden. “My job is to ensure the safety of this operation. Those children are the biggest wild card you’ve got. I have to know them, know what they’re thinking, know what they’re capable of, if I’m to make a proper plan. Got it?”

Felix ground his teeth together. There wasn’t much to like about any of the Lost Boys, but Killian despised Felix in particular. The scar-faced man gave off an air of icy madness; he clearly enjoyed his work as a drug trafficker, and didn’t mind that innocent children were harmed in the process.

“I’m watching you, Jones,” Felix said, jabbing a finger at him before heading back to the others. Killian stayed rooted to the spot for a few moments, willing his anger to settle before turning back towards the huddled children, all watching on eagerly.

He sat back down in his previous spot and smiled when the boy handed his bowl back. “Thank you, lad. Now, where were we?”

“Last time someone talked to Felix like that, they got a finger cut off,” a young girl said in a small voice.

“Did they now?” Killian mused. “Well, he doesn’t scare me one bit.”

“He should.”

Killian’s heart squeezed at the disparaged look they all shared. “How about I tell you all a story, hmm?” he said. “A fairytale.”

Several eyes lit up with a small flicker of excitement. Others were too wary to be eager. “Why?” an older boy asked.

“To pass the time,” he replied. To give them hope. To let them know, however indirectly, that help was coming. The kids shuffled, but no one objected. Killian cleared his throat and smiled. “Once upon a time, there lived a _beautiful_ Swan. She was the protector of a kingdom, sworn to uphold the peace. But one day, a no good Pirate started stealing the kingdom’s precious jewels. The Swan chased down the devilishly handsome Pirate, but he was too quick for her.

“The chase went on for days, then weeks. The Swan was so frustrated that she couldn’t catch the thief, but she refused to give up. Then one day, by chance, she and the Pirate ran into each other. He offered her a deal, he would help her catch a thieving Troll if she let him go. Well, the Swan wanted so badly to catch the Pirate, but this particular Troll had plagued her kingdom for many years. Charmed by the Pirate, she agreed, and the two worked together to defeat the Troll.”

He leaned forward, and was slightly amused when many of the kids did the same. “Once the Troll was captured, the Swan and the Pirate were at a stalemate. She had chased him for such a long time, and he had enjoyed being chased by her that he didn’t want their game to end. So he ran away, vowing that they’d meet again. The Swan wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she looked forward to the next chase as much as he did.”

Killian sat back, proud of himself, and waited for their reactions. “Wait, that’s it?” one kid asked. Killian had to stifle a small laugh.

“No, the Swan and the Pirate do meet again, and it’s a _thrilling_ tale, I assure you. But how about we save it for tomorrow night, hmm? As something to look forward to.” He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his pants, smiling down at the kids whose faces suddenly looked a touch brighter.

“Good night, all.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, it's hella short....

 Emma had to take off her jacket the second the plane touched down. She was used to New York’s brisk early winter, not South America’s muggy summer. She filed out with the other passengers, collected her bag at the claim, and hailed a taxi to take her to the agency.

David’s DEA buddy had given him a verbal file of information on the undercover agent—a woman named Fa Mulan. Apparently she was up and coming in the Lost Boys now, embedding herself deep into the operation to learn all she could. Emma had no idea if Killian had made any sort of contact with Mulan, or if Mulan outed herself to him. Mulan’s reports came every other week, when she could get away from the farm to the city and send coded transmissions back to the States.

Emma was told that Mulan picked up messages from headquarters at a local bar. She couldn’t risk talking to the agent directly, but wrote a message to her and slipped it in with the other letters. She wrote out details about Killian’s plan, the fact that she was now in the country if backup was needed, and that they were going to make a move on Pan and the Lost Boys as soon as sufficient evidence was acquired.

Sitting around and waiting in a foreign country was even worse than sitting around and waiting at home. Emma tried to distract herself by wandering the streets and marketplaces, buying small gifts for Mary Margaret, Ruby, and David. At the local agency, she listened through Killian’s transmitted audio, but so far everything was purely circumstantial—he couldn’t coax any of the Lost Boys into saying Pan’s name directly. They just kept referring to The Boss.

She was busy typing up a transcript of all the conversations Killian recorded when her fingers paused on the keys. He was telling the kids a story…about a Swan…she sat back and listened, a small smile creeping up her lips as he went on. Always dramatic…


	24. Chapter 24

The kids seemed almost excited when he walked towards them the next night. Their little eyes lit up and they shuffled around to make room for him. They’d spent the day powdering the plants and looked exhausted. They’d finished their meager meals before he’d even sat down.

“Well now, ready for more stories about the lovely Swan and her dashing Pirate?” he asked. Dozens of heads nodded. “This next story’s even more exciting than the first. You see, this time the Pirate walked right up into the Swan’s castle and told her that an evil creature was hurting her people. A Crocodile.” Several of the kids shivered. “This Crocodile was tricking people, promising them treasures, all so he could gobble them up. The Swan agreed to work with the Pirate again, in exchange for one thing: a kiss.”

Killian couldn’t hold back a laugh as half the kids made disgusted faces and the others looked enamored. “How can a _Swan_ kiss a Pirate? It’s a bird.”

“It’s a fairytale, anything can happen,” Killian said. He sucked in a breath to continue the story when a little girl interrupted him.

“But why did the Pirate want to stop the Crocodile?”

“The Pirate was a thief, but he didn’t hurt people. And he knew that the Crocodile was dangerous to the Swan’s kingdom, he wanted to help her. But the Crocodile was a sneaky creature, and the Swan and Pirate had to be _very_ careful in order to capture him. They followed his trail to a wicked Fur-trapper, a woman who was just as ruthless as her Crocodile master.”

Somebody whispered, “What’s a fur-trapper?” to an older kid who answered, much to the child’s horror.

“Of course, things got much more dangerous when the Crocodile managed to capture the Swan.”

Everyone gasped. Killian was amused by their reactions, enamored with his story. He didn’t hesitate to play up the tension. “It was up to the dashing Pirate to save his Swan. He teamed up with another Bandit and fought his way into the Crocodile’s castle. They managed to escape, but the Swan’s wing was hit by an arrow.” They all gasped again. “But the Pirate got her to safety and nursed the Swan back to proper health. They set off to connect with a friend of the Swan’s but were intercepted by the Crocodile’s men. The men caught the Pirate, leaving the Swan outnumbered. The Crocodile arrived and tried to tempt the Swan to his side.”

“ _No_!” a little girl gasped.

“Yes. And the Swan considered his offer since he swore he wouldn’t hurt the Swan’s friends or the Pirate if she agreed. But then the Swan’s men came rushing in and captured all of the bad guys. The Swan and the Pirate reunited and—“

“And he _kissed_ her!” the same little girl shrieked.

Killian smirked. “Exactly.”

“And they lived happily ever after?”

He winced. “No, not right away. You see, the Pirate was still a Pirate, after all. He couldn’t stay in the Swan’s kingdom. With a kiss, he stole away into the night.”

The little girl crossed her arms and pouted. “They’re s’posed to be together.”

He laughed. “Who knows. That wasn’t the last time they met.”

Her eyes glittered. “There’s _more_?”

“Oh yes, lots more. Their most exciting adventure is yet to come…but it’s another story for another night.” They didn’t bother trying to hide their disappointment. Killian leaned forward a little. “What’s your name?” he asked the girl.

“Lily,” she said in a small voice.

“Lily. That’s a pretty name. I’m Killian.”

The girl smiled. Killian sat upright again, glancing around the collection. “What are all your names?”

They glanced at each other, unsure whether or not to tell. “I’m John,” one boy said.

“Michael.”

“My name’s Wendy.”

One by one each of the thirty-five odd children listed their names. Killian hoped his recording device hidden in his shirt pocket picked up the sound. He wanted so badly to tell them all how his stories were true. How they were so close to being rescued from this awful jungle. He wanted to tell them who he was, but it was too early.

“Jones.”

Killian glanced back and saw Ping beckoning to him. As far as the Lost Boys went, she was one he could stomach. She kept to herself mostly, was quiet and observant, but could hold her own against the others whenever squabbles broke out. Killian gathered that she was second only to Felix.

“Duty calls,” he muttered to the children.

“Good night, Killy-nn,” Lily said. He smiled and wished them the same.

He strode over to Ping who walked away from the center of camp to walk the border of the Pixie Dust farm with him. “Updates from the Boss,” she said, handing him a small sheaf of letters. He nearly started opening them when she caught his wrist with her hand. “Better read ‘em in your cabin…the wind could blow them away.” With that, Ping whisked away from him in the direction of the Lost Boys’ campfire.

Killian frowned but did as she asked, retreating into the makeshift wooden cabin. There were no creature comforts to be found. He sat on the moth-riddled cot and sifted through the papers. Ping had already open and read them, apparently. Killian snorted. Did no one in this camp have respect? He sighed and glanced through the first one—just simple updates on how his security improvements were holding up. Pan seemed pleased. He didn’t sign off with his typical signature, just a P made of three quick dashes of the pen. It wasn’t incriminating, but Killian snapped a picture of it nevertheless with one of Emma’s FBI toys.

When he opened the second, a small slip of paper fell out onto the muddy floor. He picked it up and nearly dropped it again when he recognized Emma’s handwriting. She was _here_? He shook his head, trying to hold back a small laugh. Of course she was. The woman was determined to a fault. She’d only ever be in the thick of things. His fierce Agent Swan…

Killian ripped up the note and buried the pieces in the ground. Well, not only did he have backup in the form of FBI Agent Emma Swan, it appeared he had an ally in the Lost Boy Ping as well. Now that he thought about it, Ping had always shown a level of tenderness towards the children that the other Lost Boys lacked. It wasn’t over affectionate, just little things like scooping an extra spoonful of soup into their bowls, giving them water breaks, and doling out blankets on cold nights.

It wouldn’t be long now, he thought to himself. If he could connect Peter Pan to this miserable drug farm.


	25. Chapter 25

Emma sat back and sighed, watching the people mill around the city while she sipped on a coffee. Her Facebook page said she was in Chicago with Ruby, having the time of her life listening to bands play. David had no updates other than telling her Mary Margaret had come off maternity leave and returned to teaching middle school.

She’d tried to get into a mobile game on her phone, gave up and started reading the newspaper, gave up and just glanced around the street. Her leg jingled up and down as she sat there. When she was finished with her coffee she walked around for a few hours. On her aimless walk, she saw an advertisement for a museum. She went in and wandered around, admiring the art. She’d always enjoyed paintings, of course, but now…now she’d developed a greater appreciation for them.

The museum killed some time, but all too soon she found herself walking back towards her hotel, in for yet another night of sleeplessness. When this was all over, she’d _actually_ cash in those vacation days for once. Just get away from it all for a while.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets; it’d gotten a bit colder after the sun set. As she turned down the street towards her cheap hotel, Emma’s hair stood up on the back of her neck. It wasn’t enough time to react. Two men jumped her from behind, one slamming down his pistol on the back of her head. Emma reeled, but lashed out with her heel, catching one of her assailants in the shin. He swore while his partner tried to grab her arms.

Emma, despite the throbbing pain in her skull, pulled away and sank a fist into his nose. The first man recovered and threw a punch of his own, catching her chin. Emma lost her balance, sprawling out on the cement sidewalk. They were too quick. Before she could grit her teeth and shake away the stars, the two men had her by either arm and dragged her towards the street. A car screeched to a halt in front of them and they tossed her into the back. The driver slammed on the acceleration and they rocketed off.

“Agent Swan. Fancy meeting you here.”

Emma looked up through her tangle of hair to see Peter Pan sitting across from her in the off-road panel van. He was dressed in a suit, looking dapper despite the muddy vehicle and gruff men.

Out of rage, Emma made a lunge for him but was stopped in her tracks when one of her captors pressed the muzzle of a pistol against the back of her neck. She growled. Pan smirked. “You thought you were being so careful, didn’t you, Agent Swan? Kept communications to your criminal informant to a minimum, met at secret locations, snuck around while putting up a fake case. I’d applaud your efforts, but, well, here you are.”

Emma clenched her jaw, words brimming like fire behind her teeth. Her skull was throbbing in tempo with her racing heart. She’d been in plenty of tough scrapes before, but this? She glared at him with determination, but Emma knew her chances of getting out of that van alive were slim to none.

“I might not have known at all, had you done better research, Agent Swan. You see, those of us on the looser side of the legal system like to network. We talk. You forgot to muzzle a very important player. If you had, you might’ve taken me down,” Pan said, crossing one leg over the other.

“Player?” Emma shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

“Didn’t you know? Panpipe Entertainment worked very closely…with Gold Standard Financial.”

The realization struck Emma to the core. Her heart skipped a beat. “You were partners with Robert Gold.” She swore under her breath, dropping her eyes for a second.

“The Crocodile was making a bid to lead the criminal underworld of New York. Don’t you think he’d be in contact with New York’s biggest supplier of Pixie Dust?” His toothy smirk was condescending, making Emma’s skin crawl. “Even in a maximum security prison, the Crocodile can still whisper through the bars. And I’m _very_ good at having the right people in the right places.”

Emma berated herself. _Why_ hadn’t she kept closer tabs on Gold? _Why_ hadn’t she made the link between him and Pan? She’d practically signed her and Killian’s death certificates with her lapse of judgement. Panpipe Entertainment worked with so many different partnerships, it hardly seemed suspicious that they’d worked with Gold Standard Financial in the past… _Stupid, stupid, stupid_!

“The Crocodile had many interesting things to say about Mr. Jones. And about you, Agent Swan. He warned me not to underestimate you. Said that you were as tenacious as you were lucky. So, we’ll go out and find your partner and then the two of you will no longer be thorns in my side.”


	26. Chapter 26

Killian began looking forward to the nightly stories himself. Not because he was the star, but because the children were such a welcome reprieve from the Lost Boys. There had been rainfall earlier, making the ground damp, but the children were still sat in their usual spot, ignoring the mud or simply used to it.

“Killy’s coming!” Lily cried, slapping someone on the arm to get their attention. Killian couldn’t help but laugh. She was missing her two front teeth and had difficulty saying his name, so she took it upon herself to give him a rather amusing nickname.

“My adoring fans are eager, I see,” he joked. He shrugged off his jacket and set it on the ground before sitting down cross legged like the rest of them. “How are we all tonight?”

Some of them shrugged, others picked at fresh scabs, but most of them sat forward with sparks of brightness in their eyes. “You were gonna tell us about the time when the Swan went looking for the Pirate!” Michael cried.

“So I was,” Killian said, scratching a mosquito bite on his elbow. “Their most daring adventure yet.”

He sighed, wondering just how to fashion this story. He didn’t know the ending. He didn’t know if they’d pick up what he was trying to say, trying to tell them. “A new and terrible threat had risen up in the Swan’s kingdom. A Monster who snatched up little boys and girls and stole them away.”

Their once cautiously excited expressions dimmed, and Killian’s heart wavered, but he continued, knowing it was important. “The Swan knew she had to find the Pirate right away, because the only way to trick the Monster into revealing where he had taken the children, was to make him believe that the Pirate was on _his_ side.”

“A double agent!” John said, clapping his hands together.

“That sounds like a dangerous plan. Couldn’t the Monster hurt the Pirate?” Wendy asked.

Killian nodded. “It was very dangerous, but the Pirate knew that he owed the Swan a debt. You see, the Swan had not only saved the Pirate’s life…but the life of his Brother as well.”

“ _Brother_? Where’s his brother been?” Lily asked.

Killian tried not to wince. “The Pirate’s Brother had been placed under a sleeping curse. The Pirate had tried everything to wake him. He even went to the Crocodile for help once.”

The children gasped. Killian could hardly believe it himself, thinking back on it. He swallowed and continued. “So you see, the Pirate would do anything the Swan asked of him. Including pretending to be friends with the Monster. But there was a problem with their plan…the Swan and the Pirate couldn’t talk to each other while he was pretending to be bad, otherwise the Monster might find out. Soon the Monster trusted the Pirate enough to let him know where the children were hidden…and the Pirate went to find them.”

Killian could’ve sworn that little Lily’s eyes lit up first. One by one, the epiphany seemed to hit. Others hung on his words, ready for him to continue. He could feel hope pulsing in the humid air around them. Some teared up.

“And then? What happened?”

“And then—” Killian realized why Emma Swan had brought him this case. It was more than just the depravity of Peter Pan’s scheme. It was more than just doing her job. He suddenly understood why she was _here_ instead of back in New York. Why she never paused to take a breath or relax, why she was so insistent they leave London quickly.

These children had the same eyes as Emma Swan.

Miserable eyes. Old eyes. Eyes with only the barest amount of hope in them.

Emma Swan was an orphan.

Killian sucked in a breath to steady himself and continue with the story when he saw a few Lost Boys approaching them out of the corner of his eyes.

“Jones,” Felix barked. “You need to have a look at something.”

“Sorry, chaps, I’ll finish the story another time,” he said, throwing up a weak smile as he got to his feet. Their disappointment was palpable. “And I promise, it’s a good ending.”

Felix rolled his eyes and beckoned Killian to hurry up. As they strode away, Killian felt the warmth of the children drain away from his chest. He set his jaw and felt his cover settle over him. Back to being the Captain. Back to Pan and the Lost Boys.

“What is it?” he asked, straining to keep his voice neutral.

“Follow us. The Boss wants your opinion on a potential threat.”

“I’ve gathered that, thanks,” Killian growled. “It’s why he hired me.”

Felix was just as testy as he was. “ _New_ threat, Jones.”

They picked their way into the forest, lighting the untamed path in front of them with flashlights. Bugs swarmed the light, but the Lost Boys were used to it. Killian swatted away more creatures than he cared to think about. Felix led the way, hacking at low-hanging vines and brush with his machete.

It wasn’t his first trek into the jungle. He’d had to walk a mile wide perimeter to ensure the dense foliage hid their encampment from prying eyes, not that too many people wandered this deep into the wilds of the Amazon. Locals mostly traversed by the river, and their bend of the water was a mostly unused estuary.

Light spilled through the trees ahead, causing Killian to shield his eyes. They arrived at a narrow clearing pressed up against a rocky crevasse. A van with its headlights on shielded the others in shadow, making it hard to recognize any familiar Lost Boys meeting them there.

“Good to see you again, Mr. Jones.”

“Mr. Pan, I’m surprised to see you all the way out here,” Killian replied. Adrenaline coursed through him. Something was wrong. He’d love to believe that this was all just a stroke of brilliant luck and that he’d be able to capture Pan’s voice on the recorder in his pocket and be on his merry way back to New York, but nothing ever went that smoothly. Peter Pan wouldn’t leave his castle without a reason.

“I’m afraid something rather urgent has come up, Mr. Jones,” Pan said, walking towards him. Killian met him halfway, trying to appear casual.

“So Felix was informing me, however vaguely. What’s the problem?”

Pan nodded towards the crevice. “Take a look for yourself.”

Killian braced himself, but took a couple steps towards the drop-off and peered down into the dark depths. There, huddled in the dark, cramped confines nearly ten feet down, was Emma Swan. Killian could see a glint of red on her temple as well as the whites of her eyes. It took all his willpower to keep calm. It seemed that her mouth was taped shut and her hands bound behind her back.

“Captured yourself an FBI agent, I see,” Killian said, glancing back at Pan.

“You two are quite familiar. Wasn’t it Agent Swan who led the investigation against you, Captain?” Pan asked.

“Aye, she was. I suppose I ought to thank you. Even after all these years, she’s _still_ chasing me down,” he replied.

“What should we do with her?” Pan asked, quirking a brow. “You’re the security expert, after all.”

Killian shrugged, hating every action that appeared to betray Emma. “If she’s come this far after you, she won’t stop,” he said. “Ms. Swan’s quite the tenacious bird.”

Peter Pan looked highly amused. His brows went up and he laughed. “Funny, an old friend of mine said the _exact_ same thing!” he said. “Only one way to stop a tenacious agent. Felix, if you will.” Pan swept his hand towards the crevasse in a grand gesture. Felix grabbed for the pistol at his belt.

“If you don’t mind,” Killian said, interrupting the Lost Boy. “She’s made my life a living hell the last couple of years. I’d rather see her rot down there.”

Pan looked impressed. “Well that’s rather ruthless of you, Captain,” he said. He considered the option for a moment. “You know, I think that’s a _great_ idea. And I have to admit, I’m curious what will get her first—thirst, hunger, madness, or the jungle itself. It can be an unforgiving place…”

Killian’s gut churned. He glanced back down at Emma who was straining against the ropes at her wrists, screaming against the gag.

“Of course, the FBI will come looking for her,” Killian warned. “And then for you. We’ll have to invent a cover story to throw them off the scent.”

“I’ve already got men on it,” Pan said with a wave of his hand. “Ambitious FBI Agent Takes on Lost Boys, Makes Ultimate Sacrifice. Sounds heroic, doesn’t it? That will be the front page, of course, and then somewhere later on there’ll be an article about Panpipe Entertainment donating millions to clean up an oil spill in the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Sounds like you’re on top of things,” Killian said.

“I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I _wasn’t_ , Mr. Jones,” Pan said. “I make it a point to know everything that happens in my operations…including who exactly I hire.”

Killian’s blood ran cold as Pan lifted his chin and regarded him with dark eyes. “The Crocodile says hello.”

Killian made a lunge for Felix’s pistol, but the Lost Boy was too quick. Searing pain flared in his arm as Felix sliced down with his machete. Killian cried out, clutching his wound to his chest as he fell to the ground. Shock and revulsion swept through him as he saw his left hand bleeding in the grass, cut from his wrist. Another pained scream built up in his throat.

Felix planted his boot against Killian’s shoulder and kicked him over the edge of the crevasse. He rolled against the wet rocks, pain blazing up and down his frame. Darkness encroached on his vision as he slammed to a stop at the bottom. He bared his teeth in agony, grunts of pain escaping his throat. Aches arrested his entire body, fire blazing where his hand used to be.

“I really can’t thank you enough for the upgrades, Mr. Jones,” Pan called from above. “I’ll tell the children you said goodbye.”

Killian wanted to swear, to scream, to wring Pan’s bloody neck, but his rage slipped towards unconsciousness with every drop of blood issuing from his injury. His breaths were ragged and slow…his mind falling away…heartbeat erratic…

The lights from the van disappeared, throwing him into the shadows.

 


	27. Chapter 27

She had never felt this kind of fear before. Raw. Primal. Crippling fear. It wasn’t just being trapped at the bottom of a crevasse hundreds of miles into jungle by a madman, it was watching Killian fall, seeing his horrific injury, knowing that there was jack shit she could do to save them both.

She tried to crawl towards him when he rolled to a stop. She saw him convulsing in pain, blood spreading at a sickening rate. She pulled against her ropes with all the strength she had left, rubbing her wrists raw. She tried to grind them against the rocks, but they were too wet to act as cutting tools.

Emma sucked in a breath through her nose and forced her panic down. _Think_. She tried to remember basic training. What to do in a kidnap situation. Don’t panic was always the first on the list, which she’d already failed _. Ok, ok_ , she thought to herself. _Ropes_. All she needed was a _little_ bit of give. Even just a couple centimeters. Emma relaxed her muscles, going slack against the side of their tiny prison. After a few moments she felt her heartbeat slow a little. She tried not to listen to Killian’s grunts or think about his blood loss…

Emma wiggled the ropes, trying to pick at the knot with her nails. After another minute or so she felt the tension loosen. She cried out in relief when they fell away entirely. She ripped off the duct tape gag and launched herself over to his side.

“ _Killian_! Killian, shit, stay with me! Oh God…” She rolled him onto his back. His eyes were clenched shut, tears leaking out the sides. His clothes were soaked in his blood. Emma gaped at his handless wrist for a moment, shocked by how everything had gone so wrong so fast.

Rage replaced surprise in one hot rush. She wasn’t going to let Pan win. “Stay awake, Killian,” she ordered, slipping out of her shirt and ripping off the sleeve. She wound it around his bleeding stump, trying her best to ignore his cries.

“ _Emma_ …” he groaned. “Bloody hell…”

“Sorry,” she muttered, tying down the makeshift bandage. “No time to be gentle.”

“Oh, you know me…” he said, wincing. “I like it rough…”

Emma couldn’t help a small laugh. She wadded up the rest of her shirt and put it beneath his head. She pushed her dampened hair out of her face and reached for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it free of the loops.

“I was kidding, you know…” he grunted. “Bottom of a ravine…bleeding to death…not really romantic.”

She rolled her eyes and looped the belt around his arm just above his wrist. “Yeah, you really know how to woo a girl, Jones,” she muttered, pulling it tight. He bit back another scream. “There…now we just have to get the hell out of here,” she said, glancing up.

Killian sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy _climbing_ any time soon,” he mumbled.

Emma looked over at him, disheartened by the defeat in his voice. He hid it behind a joke, but the misery was apparent. This was her fault… She was the reason he was stuck here in the middle of the goddamn jungle without a hand… She should have never sent him out here on his own. She practically threw him straight into the lion’s den, and he came out mangled and mauled.

Emma swallowed and crawled back over to him. She placed her back against the wall of the crevasse, hooked her arms beneath his, and pulled him onto her lap. His head rested against her chest, his body against hers. She figured it’d be more comfortable. Not much she could do for him now.

They were quiet for a while. The sounds of the nocturnal jungle surrounded them—the distant river, the faint call of monkeys, some birds. Killian’s breath was ragged and he cleared his throat every once in a while. Emma looked up and saw stars peeking out from between the trees. “What do you think Pan will do now?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Killian waited a moment or two before answering. “He’ll likely…move his operation elsewhere…destroy evidence here…”

Her mind was swirling, dizzy with loud thoughts and heavy with failure. There was every chance that they would die out here. That Pan would get away. That more children would be hurt. All because of her. She closed her eyes and saw an after-image of the Lost Boys glaring down at her.

Emma’s eyes snapped open when Killian’s hand rested on top of hers. She watched as he interlaced their fingers and squeezed. She didn’t know if he was trying to cheer her up or was seeking comfort for himself. Either way, Emma leaned down and placed a small kiss on the top of his head. They sat like that for a long time, during which the cold of night seeped into their crevasse.

She tried to keep him talking for a while, but soon he slipped into unconsciousness. Her only comfort was watching the rise and fall of his chest, fearing that each breath could be his last. He’d lost so much blood, and she didn’t doubt something could infect his wound…

It was a long, miserable night…but she never let go of his hand.


	28. Chapter 28

The sound of an engine woke Emma Swan. Before she even opened her eyes she groaned in pain. Everything was sore and aching, but the shock of seeing Killian asleep on top of her sent a surge of adrenaline through her. Her head snapped between the injured art thief and the sunny opening of their ravine, her heart hammering.

“Killian,” she whispered, shaking his shoulders a little. “Killian, wake up. Someone’s here.”

His head lolled, a faint moan coming from his chapped mouth. In the daylight Emma could see the horrific amount of blood soaked into his clothes and painting the rocks around them. “Killian?”

Emma’s heart rate spiked when a shadow fell over them from above. One of the Lost Boys stood at the edge and peered down at them. She tried to shield her eyes from the light to see.

“Agent Emma Swan, are you all right?” the woman asked.

“That depends,” she replied, her voice hoarse, “are you Agent Fa Mulan?”

“I’ve been undercover as Ping for three years…not gonna lie, it sounds damn good hearing my name again,” she said. “What’s your condition?”

“Killian’s hurt, _bad_. We have to get him to a hospital immediately.”

Mulan turned over her shoulder and barked an order to someone in Spanish. Soon workers were lining the edge of the ravine. A stretcher was lowered down by ropes. An EMT gave her instructions on how to secure Killian into it.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to move him onto the stretcher. Her throat burned in thirst, her stomach twisting in hunger. She was hot and tired and drained. Emma fumbled with the straps once she’d managed to lie him flat.

“O-ok,” she called. “Take him up. _Hurry_!”

Killian’s eyes darted beneath their lids, as if in a nightmare. She cupped his sweaty face in her battered hand for a moment. “Hold on, Killian,” she whispered to him. Then he was lifted up and out. Emma thought she would have felt more relief at being rescued, but she was only worried about Killian’s survival. They were hours away from any city. The wound might have already taken its toll in the long hours they waited in the bottom of that damp, stony trench.

Ten minutes later they returned and pulled Emma free. An EMT draped a blanket over her shoulders. Another gave her a water bottle. She limped towards the off-road van where they were tending to Killian. She might have fallen if Mulan hadn’t been there to support her.

“You’re hurt,” the undercover agent said.

“Twisted my ankle,” Emma muttered. “But what about him? Is he gonna be ok? Is he gonna make it?”

“He’ll be fine. And so will you.”

Emma doubted that.

 

She still wasn’t a fan of hospitals. She spent more and more time in them lately, but could never shake the uneasy feeling that came with them. This time was worse, though. Because she was the reason Killian Jones was lying in that bed without a hand.

He was asleep, though more peacefully than before. The painkillers might have helped with that. The medics had patched up his scrapes as best they could, scrubbed him clean of dirt and blood, but he still looked like a mess. Purple rings hung beneath his eyes, and purple bruises were turning mottled yellow from his fall. His usually feathery hair fell plastered against his skull, dampened by the southern heat and humidity. She was sure he would’ve thrown a fit if he knew what the hospital nurses dressed him in, too, a pale blue paper gown. Worse of all, though, was his heavily bandaged left arm in a sling, lying against his chest.

They’d tended to her too, only after completing Killian’s surgery. She was too nervous to sit still before that. Once they’d told her that he would pull through, she allowed them to look her over. She got off easy. A minor concussion from the pistol-whip, a cut on her forehead from her own fall, a fractured ankle, and mild dehydration.

Emma sighed and pushed her hair back. There was still so much to do. According to David, Pan was already back in the States. Mulan had gone back in with the Lost Boys, her cover still viable. Killian’s recorder had been smashed and rendered useless, but with three witnesses to Peter Pan being at the Lost Boys camp and admitting to his illegal activities, they’d probably get a conviction. Now their priority was finding those kids and shutting the Pixie Dust farm down.

But there was no good way to contact Mulan, and if she was honest Emma didn’t exactly look forward to going back into the jungle in search of a secondary farm location. But that didn’t matter. She’d do her job. Emma stood, limped over to the bed, and kissed Killian’s forehead. She pulled back when he shifted in the bed.

His eyes cracked open, blurry with sleep, but eventually focusing on her. His lips quirked up. “Hey, beautiful,” he half-whispered.

She relented a small smile. “Hey.”

Killian glanced around the room for a moment as realization dawned on him. His gaze went steely as he saw the sling and the bandaged wrapped around where his hand used to be. “And here I thought _that_ part was just from my nightmare…”

Emma’s chest squeezed. “They said you were lucky you didn’t bleed out.”

His eyes flicked back over to her. “Lucky I had _you_ to play nurse on me, you mean,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have had to play nurse if I didn’t…”

“Hey,” he said, cutting her off. “ _This_ is Pan’s fault. Not yours. I’d be dead if not for you.” Emma didn’t feel like arguing so she kept quiet. “Seems poetic, doesn’t it?” he continued. “I nurse you back from the brink of death, you nurse me.”

“Poetic’s not the word I’d use,” Emma mused.

“You’re right. _Romantic_ is much better.” He seemed to brighten a little when she laughed. Killian took her hand in his and kissed her skinned knuckles. He rested their joined hands against his chest. Emma felt his heartbeat on the back of her hand.

“Jog my memory, love…how exactly did you manage that daring escape?” he asked.

She explained that Mulan had come back for them with a small army of medics and police. He still managed to give her most of the credit for “saving his life.” It didn’t take him long to ignore his own maladies and focus on hers, either. She brushed off most of them as annoyances, but she caught his jaw clenching when she told him about the broken ankle she received after Pan tossed her into the ravine.

“I stood next to that miserable wretch so many times…” he growled, looking away. “I could’ve…”

“Could’ve what?” Emma asked, sitting on the bed next to him. He sighed, knowing he shouldn’t answer what he was thinking. “This was a long-term operation, Killian. If you’d…done _anything_ to him then, it wouldn’t have solved anything. We can’t just…get rid of Pan, we have to dismantle him and his operations.”

“Beautiful and wise. Quite the package, my darling Swan,” he said, flashing a smile. She could tell it was a little forced.

“You should rest,” she said, getting to her feet.

“I’ll rest when we find those kids and finish this,” he replied, trying to sit up against the headboard. He hissed out through his teeth, but his eyes kept their determination.

“We can’t do anything until Mulan gives us word as to where the Lost Boys took the kids,” she explained. “And even then…it’s gonna be a shootout. You can’t come.”

His expression soured and his fist clenched. “Why, because a one-handed man would just get in the way?”

“Because you’re not an agent,” she reminded him.

He glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes, sighed, and relaxed a little. “Those kids will need a friendly face,” he reasoned. “Someone they trust.”

She shouldn’t have even paused to consider it, because the second she hesitated he’d won. “We’ll see,” she said, crossing her arms.

A doctor opened the door to his room and stuck his head in. “Agent Swan? You’ve got a call from Supervisor Nolan waiting for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right there,” she said with a nod.

Before she could follow the doctor out, Killian’s hand slipped around her wrist. “Thank you, Emma,” he said.

“For what? Saving your ass?” she teased.

He smirked. “Well, yes, that, but for so much more. For…trusting me. Looking after my brother. For _caring_ so much about everyone around you.”

She didn’t know how to react to any of that. She’d glimpsed the sincere Killian so rarely. Part of her wanted to pull back. To deflect it all with another joke and then go bury herself in work. That’s what she wanted to do. But she didn’t. Instead, Emma Swan leaned forward and placed her lips on his. Just a brush of a kiss. A light “you’re welcome.”

When she pulled away, Killian looked just as surprised as she felt. Before either of them could say anything else, Emma slipped into the hallway and took David’s call.


	29. Chapter 29

The battalion of trucks and vans rocketed through the jungle trails, kicking up mud and dirt behind them. Emma looked out the window at the dense trees rushing by. Sitting beside her, armed to the teeth, were half a dozen agents. They led the charge towards the secondary Pixie Dust farm.

Eventually the trucks rolled to a stop. The driver got out and pounded a fist against the side, prompting everyone to spill out. Killian offered his good hand to help her down. Emma bit back a wince of pain from her ankle. The brace helped a little, but she’d have to leave most of the action to the others.

“Cars can’t go any farther,” Mulan said. She’d abandoned her Lost Boy gear for fully Kevlar body armor, her long black hair tied back underneath a cap labelled DEA. Emma was similarly outfitted. Even Killian wore a vest. They weren’t taking any chances. “We’ll take motorized canoes the rest of the way.”

There were four long boats already waiting with engines running. A tarp covered the boat, shielding it from the hot equatorial sun. They loaded everyone into the boats and took off. The river snaked and bent, cluttered with logs and fallen trees; they had to take their time navigating the winding waters.

Emma sat in the front of the third boat, eyes scanning the way ahead. Mulan was in the first, pointing out directions to the driver. Killian sat next to her, staring blankly out over the canopies. Nobody spoke unless they had to.

Nearly two hours later, Mulan waved to the boats behind her and they all slowed. One by one, they climbed out and retreated into the cover of the trees, approaching the farm as stealthily as possible. Mulan gave pointers and mapped out the compound, drawing up a plan of attack.

And then it was time.

It was clear from the beginning that the Lost Boys were expecting company. The children were nowhere to be seen in the Pixie Dust fields and gunfire went off almost immediately. Emma barked at Killian to take shelter as she charged in with the rest of the South American agents.

She hid behind one of the many shacks, peeking around the corner to take shots whenever she could. The sides were nearly equal in manpower, but the Lost Boys knew this part of the jungle better than their side. More than once the agents were flanked and gunned down. She took aim and fired at a Lost Boy sneaking up on Mulan. The DEA agent nodded in thanks before leaping back into the action herself.

Emma didn’t press forward, but rather kept watch and gave cover to agents further ahead. Her ankle was a liability, not that she’d let it hold her back if she really needed to get in the thick of things.

Fifteen minutes later, the Lost Boys were either dead or talked into surrender. Eight drug traffickers were lined up in the middle of the encampment, handcuffed, and subdued. The agents made a perimeter, double checking that none of Pan’s men had snuck off into the trees.

“ _Where_ are the kids?” Emma barked at the kneeling Lost Boys. None of them said a word. She growled and looked back up. “Check every building, every nook and cranny of this place.”

“ _Emma_!”

She whirled around to see Killian yanking on a padlock on one of the larger buildings. She jogged—more like speed limped, if she was honest—over to him. She gave it a few hard tugs, trying to break the rusted metal hinges. “Anyone got bolt cutters?” she shouted over her shoulder. Seconds later one was produced and handed to her. Emma cut the lock and pulled open the doors.

Staring back at her, huddled in the cobwebbed shack, were over 30 children. The sight punched all of the air out of her chest, but something in that moment felt so cathartic. “Come on out, kids,” she said. “It’s all right now. Come on.”

They were hesitant to trust her, but they lit up when Killian peered inside. One little girl shot forward and threw her arms around his waist. “I _knew_ you’d come back, Killy!”

Killian had a bewildered smile on his face, but knelt down and put his hand on the girl’s small shoulder. “I couldn’t very well leave without finishing my story, could I?”

The children stepped out of the shack, sticking together, throwing nervous looks around at all the adults. “We should get to the boats,” Emma said, more to Killian than the kids. “We brought water and some granola bars, but the sooner we get them back to the States the better.”

Emma thought she heard the little girl whisper, “Who’s she?” to Killian.

“Agent Swan.” For some reason, all of the kids lit up when Mulan said her name, but Emma didn’t have time to puzzle out why. “We’re ready.”

Emma ushered the children over to the four motorized canoes, though they were mostly listening to Killian. It would be a cramped ride back to the vans, but the kids hardly seemed to mind squeezing in next to each other. Emma helped the smaller ones climb from the muddy banks into the boats.

It was a long ride up the river. The kids were chattering away, happily scarfing down the granola bars and guzzling down the water. Their bright eyes and smiles relaxed Emma. Tension had been thrumming through her sore muscles all day, but now…now it was worth it. Every ache, every drop of blood and sweat, every skipped heartbeat…everything had been worth it.

And Killian Jones was beaming just as brightly as the children. He was listening intently to something the little girl was telling him, nodding along and making occasional comments. He’d sneak glances over to Emma and then whisper something to the girl, causing her to giggle.

Once they’d finally arrived, the kids groaned when they learned there would be another three hour journey in the vans, this time even more confined than the boats. Killian had to ride in a separate vehicle, but that was just as well. Emma was exhausted. Where the canoe ride was loud and energetic, the ride back into the city was silent. Practically everyone but the drivers were catching was sleep they could. Emma woke occasionally when the tires hit some rut in the jungle path and her head knocked against the window.

It was dark by the time they reached the city. The kids woke one by one and pressed their faces against the window. Medics and more police were waiting for them at the US Embassy, armed with blankets, food, and shelter. They applauded as everyone was unloaded from the vans, wishing congratulations all around.

Soon the embassy lobby was overrun with the orphans. Emma never strayed far from them, even when she reported in to David. She watched over them, wary of any adult she didn’t recognize.

“I guess Swans really do have intense protective instincts.”

Emma just smirked as Killian leaned against the wall next to her. “You’re one to talk. Those kids are practically glued to you. I’m surprised you managed to pry them off at all.”

He shrugged. “What can I say, Agent Swan? They have good taste.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

They watched the kids in silence for a while, both proud, relieved, and exhausted from this case. Emma sighed, fighting to keep her eyes open. “FBI’s arranging a private charter for them back to the US. They’ll be back home in just a couple days.”

“And what about us?” he asked. Emma could feel his eyes searching her face. She really hoped that wasn’t a double-layered question.

“We fly first thing tomorrow. Finding the kids was only one part of this operation.”

His jaw set. “The second is taking down Pan,” he said. Emma nodded. “You know, I think I might have to amend our deal, Agent Swan. I want a reward for all this.”

She quirked a brow and looked up at him. Emma suppressed a shiver when his lips quirked up on one side. “I want front row tickets to you arresting Peter Pan.”

“You’ve _more_ than earned that,” she said.

“Oh _have_ I?” he asked. “In that case, I might ask for additional perks.”

“Don’t push it, Jones,” she replied.

“ _You’re_ the one who said—”

She stopped him by gripping his collar and kissing him. He went stiff in shock for a moment, but relaxed against her. It was a quick kiss, but the effects lingered. “There,” she said, staring at his lips rather than his eyes. “That’s what you were gonna ask for, right?”

“Actually, I was thinking something more along the lines of _monetary_ rewards…but I think that will do just fine.”

Emma bumped him with her shoulder, causing him to laugh. He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her temple. She looked up at him, wanting to say something but not knowing what exactly that was… He seemed to pick up on it and waited expectantly.

They were, of course, interrupted by the little girl coming up to them and tugging on Killian’s shirt. “You promised to finish the story,” she said.

“That I did…well, I’m a man of my word. I’m also a man of manners, which is why I’m going to introduce you two. Agent Emma Swan, this is the precocious Lily.”

Emma eyes widened. “ _Lily_?”

The black-haired girl nodded. Killian quirked a brow. “You know her?”

“You remember the girl that Children of Neverland refused to let the orphanage contact?” she asked.

Lily tilted her head to the side, but Killian understood. “It seems we have you to thank, Ms. Lily, for leading us here.”

“Um, you’re welcome? I think?”

Killian laughed and tousled her hair. Emma just smiled. “Lily, I have a message from Marco Booth.” Lily looked stunned for a second, then excited the next. “He misses you and can’t wait to see you again.”


	30. Chapter 30

Despite having a band aid plastered to her temple and her ankle in a brace, Emma Swan was smiling. With her gun strapped to her hip and an army of FBI agents behind her, she marched up to the front steps of Panpipe Tower. Six pm. Pan always left right on time. But this time his personal driver wasn’t waiting for him.

The entertainment CEO emerged with his phone against his ear, talking as he trotted down the steps. Emma crossed her arms and lifted her chin. Pan’s body did a hard stop. His eyes went wide, his voice choking off midsentence. Beside her, Killian chuckled.

“Peter Pan,” she said, her voice carrying across the small courtyard in front of the skyscraper. “You are under arrest for kidnapping, drug trafficking, hiring a known criminal, attempted murder, and a whole lot of other things.”

David walked up to the stunned mogul and cuffed him, leading Pan to the police car. “And here I thought the Crocodile told you not to underestimate me,” she added. Pan’s eyes flared in livid rage. He jerked against his restraints, prompting three other agents to hold him down.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, girl. If you think for _one_ second that you’ve won—” Pan was abruptly cut off when Killian sank his fist into the multi-billionaire’s nose. None of the agents reacted. They had no love for Pan. David didn’t even bother hiding a small smirk of amusement.

Killian shook out his hand but looked incredibly satisfied with himself. “Forgive me, Swan. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Oh trust me, I’m glad you decked him. Can’t tell you how much _I_ wanted to,” she replied, watching David push Pan into the car. Sirens wailed as the contingent set off. Bystanders were whispering, snapping pictures, and looking around in confusion.

“Well I’m sure Supervisor Nolan would look the other way if you wanted to get your shot in,” Killian said.

“It’d just give Pan more ammo,” she reasoned. “He’s right. This isn’t over yet. He’s got powerful lawyers and judges in his pockets.”

“Not even the great Peter Pan could sway a jury once you, Agent Fa, and those children testify against him,” he replied, facing her.

“And what about you, Jones? Would you take the stand? You dealt with Pan and the Lost Boys first hand. That insight could be useful.”

He shrugged. “They have my transcripts. And I don’t fancy being in a courtroom filled with lawmen. But…if you _truly_ need me to…” he didn’t have to finish the thought.

Emma smiled up at him, still dizzy with the euphoria of arresting Peter Pan. “Thank you, Killian,” she said. “If it weren’t for you, Pan would still be hurting a _lot_ of people.”

His own smile warmed as he took half a step closer to her. “While I welcome any and all praise, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt you could’ve done this without me, Agent Emma Swan. You are an unstoppable force of nature when you’re on the case.”

She caught herself glancing at his lips. “So what is the _Captain_ going to do now?” Emma rested her hands on her hips, absently watching the flurry of FBI activity still swarming the Panpipe Tower.

“Retire, I’d imagine,” he said, staring down at his stumped arm in the sling. Emma’s head snapped back around at his sudden shift. “I’m afraid there’s not much a one-handed thief can steal.”

“If anyone could make it work, it’d be you,” she said.

He glanced back up at her, quirking a brow. “Are you _encouraging_ my criminal exploits, Agent Swan?”

She laughed. “I’m just saying…you’re giving me all these props for being determined, but _you’re_ just as tenacious as I am.”

“If you’re trying to flatter me in order to seduce me, my lovely Swan, rest assured it _is_ working,” he said.

Emma rolled her eyes. “You know, there is something you could do, even with one hand,” she said.

His eyes were glittering now. He stepped even closer, hovering over her, head tilted to the side as he regarded her lips, the curve of her neck, the afternoon sun in her hair. “And what’s that?”

“Stay here.”

Killian’s brows knit together in confusion. Emma licked her lips and continued. “With your help, we’ve taken down _two_ massive criminal organizations. You could…consult on cases.”

“Work for the FBI?” he asked, amused.

“With,” she corrected. “Act as a criminal informant. You said it yourself, there’s nobody better at what he does than the Captain.”

Killian raised his good hand, the backs of his fingers trailing down her arm. “I think, Agent Swan, that you’ve grown rather fond of me. Is that why you want me to stick around, hmm?”

“You’re an asset,” Emma said. “Emphasis on _ass_.”

He shook his head, his tongue skimming his top teeth. “You’d hate to see me go, wouldn’t you?”

“And what if I would?” she asked, surprising him and herself. She shifted in her spot, folding and unfolding her arms.

Killian pulled her forward by her waist, pressing his body against hers as he kissed her hard. Emma didn’t hesitate to kiss back. She held on to his jacket lapels for dear life as her mouth worked against his. She was panting by the time he pulled back. She chased his lips with hers.

“Well,” he said, “at the very least I could use a vacation. I hear New York is lovely this time of year…besides, I have a very compelling reason to stick around this time.” His eyes flicked down to her lips, now quirked up in a dream-like smile.

Emma kissed him again, not caring that FBI agents were staring or that they were in the middle of red and blue flashing lights. Art thief or not, Killian Jones had sacrificed so much for this case…for her. So she took that moment to thank him, in the best way she knew how.


	31. Chapter 31

“And so it is my great honor to award Special Agent Emma Swan with this medal, the FBI Shield of Bravery, in recognition for her incredible dedication leading to the rescue of numerous kidnapped children and the arrest of the Lost Boys leader.” Emma dipped her head as Mayor Regina Mills placed the medal around her neck. “Excellent work, Agent Swan.”

Applause rose up from the gathered crowd of fellow agents, politicians, and reporters. Emma smiled through it all, wishing the ceremony would be over already. She had no patience for pomp and circumstance, and she had no doubt Mayor Mills was only here to save face since she had direct involvement with Children of Neverland. Reelections were coming up, after all.

From the side of the stage, David whooped as he clapped, looking more like a proud father at a soccer game than her supervisor. Mary Margaret stood beside him, cradling the baby in her arms while she beamed. As soon as it was done, Emma bolted from the stage and was nearly crushed in a bear hug by Ruby.

“So now that you’re a big hot shot, do you think you can score some vacay time and we can actually roadtrip to a music fest?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It’s up to my boss,” Emma replied, nodding towards David.

“Hell, I’ll give you a _paid_ vacation, Em,” he said.

“Well, I’m sold,” she said with a laugh.

Belle came up to their group with a pleasant smile. “Congratulations, Emma.”

“Congratulations yourself, Belle. I heard you submitted an application to become an analyst the other day,” Emma said.

Belle blushed and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I have _you_ to thank for that, Emma.”

They chatted all together for a while—Emma was hoping to mill around and avoid any nosy reporters who wanted an exclusive—until Ruby tapped Emma on the shoulder and pointed. Everyone turned to see Killian Jones standing there, a single rose in hand. Emma flushed as Belle, Ruby, and Mary Margaret giggled.

She strode over to Killian, gripped his jacket, and pulled him to the side of the room. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“This is a celebration of _you_ , my darling Agent Swan, why _wouldn’t_ I be here?” he asked.

“For one, it’s full of lawmen,” she retorted.

He sighed. “True, and trust me it’s giving me gooseflesh.” He shivered but turned his attention back to her, extending the rose.

“What’s this for?” she asked, taking it.

“Consider it a small token of appreciation for not allowing me to die in that crevasse,” he said.

She pressed her nose to the soft petals, enjoying the fragrance. “How’s your arm?”

Killian glanced down at the sling. “Sore as the devil,” he admitted. “It’ll take some getting used to…there are many activities in which having two hands is better than one…but I’ll have to make do.”

Emma smiled, inspiring one of his own. “Well…thank you,” she said, saluting him with the rose.

“I have another surprise for you, love, if you’ll come with me,” he said.

Emma quirked a brow. “ _Really_?”

“Bloody hell, is that all you ever think about, Swan? _Sultry_ things? Trust me, this is a much more heartfelt surprise,” he said. He turned towards the door, stuck out his elbow, and looked at her expectantly.

Rolling her eyes, Emma linked her arm with his. She glanced over her shoulder at her friends—Ruby gave her a thumbs up and Mary Margaret looked like fireworks were about to shoot out of her eyes—before following Killian out of the building.

He paused at the curb and hailed a taxi, opening the door for her like a perfect gentleman. When the cabbie asked where they’d like to go, Killian handed him a slip of paper. “Wow, you’re taking this surprise thing seriously,” she mused.

In response, he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and dangled it in front of her. She just looked at him. He smirked. “Do you trust me?”

“Trust _you_?” She paused for a second, trying her best not to bite her lip and think of what other ways that blindfold could be used. “Occasionally.”

“And is this one of those times?” he asked.

He looked so imploring, so excited. He was practically wriggling in his seat like a puppy. She took the blindfold and tied it around her eyes, huffing when he reached forward and adjusted it. “No peeking, Swan,” he instructed.

“So _demanding_ , Jones.”

Emma tried to guess where they were going—she practically had the streets of New York mapped out in her mind, but Killian had a tendency to steal her focus. More than a few times his hand would brush her shoulder or her thigh as he chatted with her. By the time the cabbie pulled to a stop, Emma was lost.

Killian helped her out, paid the cabbie, and led her across the sidewalk. The moment he led her inside, Emma knew exactly where she was. She’d spent too many hours there to forget the sounds and scents. The hospital. She decided against admitting it out loud at the risk of spoiling Killian’s excitement.

Emma tried not to imagine the faces of confusion of the people and workers there. A one handed man leading a blind folded woman? Then again, stranger things happened in their city. They rode up an elevator and walked down a hall. Emma knew where they were going, but she didn’t know why.

At last, Killian pulled the blindfold off and smoothed out her hair. She quirked a brow. He knocked before entering. Emma frowned in confusion but soon saw why Killian was practically glowing with delight.

Liam Jones was awake.

He was propped up against a mountain of pillows, eating Jell-o, and watching something on his TV. But when Killian entered, his brother looked just as excited.

“Killian, why didn’t you tell me you were bringing company?” Liam asked, setting aside his Jell-O. “I would’ve combed my hair.”

Well, it seemed like humor ran in the family. Killian took Emma’s hand, leading her further into the room. “Liam, this is Emma Swan,” he said.

“Ah, my mysterious weekly visitor,” Liam said, flashing a smile. “It’s good to finally meet you, Ms. Swan.”

Emma was still reeling in surprise. “You too,” she said.

Liam smirked as he glanced between Emma and Killian. “My brother’s told me a lot about you, Ms. Swan. I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with him all this time. He’s always been a handful.”

“Making jokes at my condition, Liam? You must be feeling better,” Killian mused.

Liam shrugged. “Given the sheer amount of times you’ve called me Sleeping Beauty, I think I’ve earned a few brotherly jabs here and there.”

“I thought you were asleep,” Killian muttered.

“No, you _wished_ I was asleep,” Liam countered. “But in addition to all those things, I also heard what you had to say about Emma.”

Emma faltered a little when both brothers looked at her. “I have to thank you, Ms. Swan, for looking after my little brother. By the sounds of it, he’s gotten himself in heaps of trouble while I’ve been…away.”

“ _Way_ more than heaps,” Emma said, crossing her arms.

“If I’d known you two would gang up on me, I might not have brought you,” Killian muttered.

“I’m glad you did. I’m really enjoying outnumbering you,” she replied.

“As am I,” Liam added.

Killian scoffed. “And here I just wanted a nice little meeting.”

Emma glanced back at Liam, and he at her. Killian’s older brother was the whole reason he became the Captain, the reason she even _met_ him in the first place. And she was certain Killian told Liam about her transferring the comatose brother to a secure New York hospital…it seemed they each owed the other.

“It _is_ nice,” Emma said. “And a wonderful surprise.”

They spent the entire afternoon at the hospital. Emma marveled at how _happy_ Killian looked. He was downright childlike, always throwing wide-smiled looks to his brother and to her. More than a few times she caught herself staring at his beaming grins.

Hours later, Liam was exhausted and visiting hours were over. The sun was just setting as Emma and Killian left the building. They went to a nearby café and ordered hot drinks to combat the chill of coming winter.

“So,” Emma said, stirring her hot cocoa with a cinnamon stick. “Have you given any thought to my proposal?”

“Mmm, so eager to know what I’ll do next, love?” he asked. As he spoke, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver flask. He struggled a little uncapping it, but smiled with pride as he poured rum into his own coffee.

“Have you?” she repeated.

Killian licked his lips and set his coffee cup down. “You have singlehandedly—pun not intended—turned my life upside down, Emma Swan. Just a few months ago I was one of the finest art thieves of the century, and now I’m a do-gooder who associates with lawmen…” Emma glanced around, hoping nobody was eavesdropping. “So it seems to me…that I need someone to help me navigate these uncharted waters.”

“Pirate lingo again?” she teased, glancing at him over the rim of her mug.

He ignored her. “ _If_ I stay in New York and act as your criminal informant…I have a few conditions, my sweet Agent Swan,” he said.

She rested her chin on her hand. “And what are those, _Captain_?”

“One: No anklet. I don’t need Agent Nolan checking my each and every move,” he said.

“Reasonable,” she said, pretending to consider it.

“Two: I work with, and only with, you.”

“I can pull some strings.”

“And three,” he said, leaning forward a little in his seat. Emma’s eyes flicked down to his lips as they curled up over his immaculate teeth. “I get to do this…” He stretched out his hand and brushed past her hair, his fingers skimming her cheek as he cupped her face and pressed his lips against her own. It was a light kiss, soft, slow. It tasted like rum, coffee, and Killian. “…a lot more often.”

Emma licked her lips, blinking a few times to refocus.

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I can't thank people enough for their kind words and encouragement. It really means a lot to me to get feedback as an aspiring author. As it stands, this will be the last Agent and the Art Thief story. (But then, I've said that before, haven't I?)
> 
> http://the-marvelous-jolly-roger.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Well, a few months ago I said I wouldn't write a third part to this series and yet here it is. Thank you so, so, so much to each and everyone of you who offered me encouragement, feedback, and suggestions. I've had so much fun writing this little AU series. I really hope you enjoy the third installment. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Update: So guess who's a few chapters into Part 4? Hint: it's me. No idea when I'll be able to upload it, but rest assured that it is coming! <3


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